


Family of Choice

by ReflectingLightInStarsHollow (Cassandra14)



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassandra14/pseuds/ReflectingLightInStarsHollow
Summary: Luke doesn't tell Rory that he's engaged to her mom, and the universe shifts. You have two families in life, the family you're born with and the family you choose; Luke chose Rory and Lorelai a long time ago.





	1. Chapter 1

Rory looked small. Her hands hugged the coffee cup, staring into its liquid depths. 

Racking his brain, Luke tried to think of what to say. The only thing that came to mind was the fact of his engagement with her mother, but something held his tongue before he blurted it out. 

Lorelai would want to tell Rory herself. He’d give her a little more time, time to fix the breach between her and Rory so she could tell Rory. 

He could wait. Luke had gotten used to being patient when it came to Gilmores. 

Instead, he asked, “You hungry?”

Rory shrugged, replying, “I’m fine. You’ve already closed down the kitchen.”

“Rory, are you hungry?” he repeated the question, leaning forwards and resting his forearms on the counter. 

Tentatively, she glanced up. She mumbled, “Sort of, yes.”

“Then the kitchen is still open,” he informed her. “Any preference?”

“No, whatever is good,” she said. 

“Okay. Drink your coffee.” He straightened and walked into the kitchen. “Food’ll be ready in a minute.”

He restarted a fryer and poured in just enough oil for a batch of fries. While the oil heated, he prepped the ingredients for a grilled cheese with bacon and tomatoes. 

Stacking the ingredients, he called, “So you heard about Kirk’s latest stunt?”

“No,” called back Rory. 

“He volunteered to help with the Boy Scout’s retreat. Camping.”

“Really? But Kirk gets lost in the park,” Rory said.

Luke turned on the flattop. “I know. You think Charlie Donahue would know better, but George Stevenson got sick at the last minute and he wanted the extra adult - although counting Kirk as an adult is a more than a little ridiculous if you ask me - so he accepted Kirk’s offer.” 

Dropping a single fry in to test, Luke nodded to himself when the oil frothed nicely. He filled the basket and submerged the fries. A square of butter sizzled onto the cooktop. With the tip of the spatula, he spread the butter around before he transferred the sandwich to the heat. 

“Bad, bad idea. Hospital?” asked Rory. 

“Almost. First, he lead his group in circles for about an hour when they were five minutes from camp. Then, he somehow managed to overturn his canoe - the kids had to rescue him. Finally, he’d read somewhere about collecting honey and went after what he thought were honeybees but were actually wasps.”

“Wow.”

“Yep. Last I saw him, he was walking around slathered in calamine lotion.”

“Poor Kirk. He tries so hard.” He heard her shoes hit the floor and poked his head out of the kitchen. 

“Coffee?” she waved with her cup at the pot. 

“Sure, go ahead.”

A fleeting smile lit her face. “Cool, I get to go behind the counter.” 

He returned to his cooking. A minute later, he plated the sandwich and fries. 

“Thanks,” said Rory as he slid the plate in front of her. She finished stirring sugar into her coffee then reached for a fry. 

“You’re welcome.” As she ate, he resumed his usual closing procedures: wiping down tables, refilling napkin dispensers, and documenting the receipts. Intermittently, she would ask him about Gypsy or Miss Patty or what Taylor’s latest scheme was. He answered with what he knew, but it felt strange. Lorelai should have been the one Rory asked, not him. 

Rory swiped the last fry through a smear of ketchup. She nibbled on it slowly until it was gone. 

“I should probably get going,” she remarked quietly. “My grandparents will wonder where I’ve been.” Despite her words, Rory didn’t budge. Her fingers fretted at a napkin. “They worry.”

“They’re your grandparents. Of course, they worry.” Luke stopped working to focus on Rory. “I’ve still got a couple of things to do though, if you want another cup of coffee.”

Shaking her head, Rory slid from the stool. “No, I need to go.”

“Drive carefully okay? All sorts of nuts out on the roads.”

Rory’s lips twitched in an attempt at a smile. “I will. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

She strode across the diner, and stopped with a hand on the door. Turning back, she said, “Thank you. For not asking what’s wrong. For not trying to fix my problems - or me.”

“You don’t need fixing, Rory. You’re not broken,” Luke said firmly. “Don’t think that.”

“I’ll try not to.” 

She left, and Luke watched until she made it safely to her car. 

* * *

He honestly meant to tell Lorelai the following day. And the next day, and the day after that.

However, whenever he brought up Rory, Lorelai either launched into a rant or shut down claiming she didn’t want to discuss it. After three days, Luke couldn’t wait any longer. He waited until she’d stopped by for an afternoon coffee, and had drunk two-thirds of it. Aside from a pair of soccer moms in one corner, the diner was empty. 

Squaring his shoulders, he stood across the counter from Lorelai and said bluntly, “Lorelai, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s about Rory.”

Her eyes narrowed instantly, lips solidifying into a line. “What about Rory?”

The coffee cup rapped as she set it down hard. 

“It’s just - she - you and her, this silence thing…” Luke swiped at imaginary dust. “I don’t like it. I think it’s wrong.”

“What?” Lorelai exclaimed, “Of course, it’s wrong. And as soon as she gets her head on straight and moves out of my parents’ house and goes back to Yale, everything will go back to normal. Until then, I can’t - I won’t - pretend everything’s just dandy.”

“I know but -”

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to kidnap her and drag her back to Yale,” Lorelai reminded him, pointing at him.

“Yeah, well -”

“So you get it. You get what a massive mistake this is, and maybe she has to make it or whatever, but I’m not going to indulge this. She wants to do her thing, fine, but I’m not going to support it.” Lorelai gulped her coffee in a noisy, angry slurp. “When she’s ready to admit she’s wrong, I’ll be there to listen. Until then, it’s tough love, baby.”

“You don’t think you’re maybe being a little  _ too _ tough?” he asked hesitantly, not making eye contact. 

“Says the guy who pushed Jess into a lake,” Lorelai retorted. “She’s my daughter. This is the right thing to do.”

She wasn’t listening to him. She didn’t want to listen to him, absolute in her righteous indignation and maternal certainty. 

“Okay.” He conceded, fighting the sudden tightness in his chest, and turned to collect a to-go cup. “Coffee for the road?”

“Yes, please.” Once he’d filled it, she leaned over and kissed him lightly. “Tomorrow night? 8?”

“I’ll be there.”

He didn’t attempt to tell her about Rory’s visit again. 

* * *

About a week later, the bell announced Rory’s entrance into an otherwise patronless diner. The lunch rush had finished but the high schoolers had an hour yet before they would be stopping by for a snack of french fries and soda.

“Hey,” he said when she hesitated in the doorway.

“Mom’s doing inventory at the Dragonfly today right?” she asked in tremulous voice. 

“Yeah, she is,” Luke confirmed. Understanding the question Rory hadn’t asked, he added, “It always takes her the entire afternoon.”

“And she can’t stop because if she stops she’ll never come back to it because she hates inventory.” Rory took the seat nearest the register. “Which is why she does it on Tuesday. Monday is Monday so no, Wednesday is halfway through the week, Thursday is almost Friday, and Friday is Friday.” 

Luke punched the equal sign on his calculator and copied the value into his book. “Yep. You want something to eat?”

“Cheeseburger? With fries?” 

“Coming up.”

Luke had the burger on the griddle when Rory said, “I had another community service thing today. That’s where I came from.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I didn’t let Grandma drop me off this time. The other kids - me showing up in a BMW - not a good idea.”

Frowning, Luke emerged from the kitchen. “The other kids, are they giving you a hard time?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Rory said. When he still looked worried, she elaborated, “Mostly just saying what a spoiled little rich girl I was. It wasn’t that bad, really.”

“Well...tell someone if it gets worse, okay? There’s someone you can tell right? A supervisor?”

“Yeah, there’s a supervisor.”

Luke returned to the kitchen and finished her entree. She ate while Luke continued working on the books. 

“Kirk!” 

The pair turned. Kirk barrelled past the diner, Andrew in pursuit. Purple paint splattered the bookstore owner’s hair, face, and shirt. 

“Get back here!”

Rory gave Luke a questioning look. He shrugged and replied, “I don’t know and I don’t want to know.”

“But where’s the fun in that? It wouldn’t be Stars Hollow without Kirk doing something silly,” Rory declared. The smile Kirk’s flight had provoked faded, and she poked at the remaining fries morosely. 

“Miss Patty has started offering Mambo lessons.”

“Really?” Rory perked up a bit. 

“Francis Boyer sprained his ankle during the first one.” 

“Aww, wait, is he still pining after Miss Stanton?” 

“No,  _ she _ asked  _ him _ out two weeks ago. That was before the sprained ankle, but they’ve been in here a couple of times since and it looks like it’s going well.” 

“Good for her. They’re both nice people; they deserve to be happy.” Rory’s smile reappeared, thinking of the tweed-clad librarian and his crush on the 8th grade science teacher. 

“Joe Wallace ran over his mailbox.”

“Again? This is like the fortieth time.” 

“Again.” 

“You would think he would learn.”

“Apparently not.” 

For the next fifteen minutes, Luke dredged up every scrap of gossip he’d heard or been witness to over the past month. Rory listened intently, her smile staying put. 

When the bell jangled, and a half dozen high-school kids entered, Rory gulped the dregs of her coffee and stood. 

“I should go.” She bit her lip, then asked, “Would it be okay if I keep coming in on Tuesdays? It - helps.”

“Sure.” Glancing over to the table of chattering teenagers, Luke called, “Be over in a minute.” He turned back to Rory. 

“Thanks. And maybe, I know I shouldn’t but, could you maybe not mention it to my mother? That’s bad, I know, asking you but, I just - I just can’t - she would show up -” Rory flapped her hands about. “I can’t, not yet, I’m still trying to figure things out and she would push and I just need a little space.”

Luke considered her request before he answered. Finally, he said, “I won’t lie. I won’t volunteer the information, but I won’t lie.”

“Okay, that’s fair, more than fair, and I’m sorry. I know you can’t like this being in the middle stuff.”

“I don’t, and for the record, I think this whole not-talking thing is a bad idea. But it’s your choice and Lorelai’s choice, and this -” Luke gestured at himself and Rory, “ - this is my choice.” 

“Thank you.” Impulsively, she stepped around the counter’s end and hugged him. Startled, Luke froze for an instant before he wrapped one arm around her. 

“You’re gonna be okay, kid,” he told her. 

“I hope so.” She released him. “Same time next week?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Bye, Luke.”

“Bye, Rory.”


	2. Chapter 2

Six weeks later, Rory dashed into the diner, a messenger bag thumping against her hip. “We did it! We got the extension!”

“Congratulations!” Luke poured coffee as Rory bounced into her now-customary seat by the register. “That’s great news.”

“And we think we’ve found a better job for her. One of the DAR ladies - who’s an orthodontist so she works which meant she almost didn’t get into the DAR but she’s the daughter of the head of the New York Chapter so they had to let her in - was looking for a receptionist.  Mrs. Halabi interviewed for the position Friday, and Mrs. Reedquist told me this morning that she did really well,” Rory babbled excitedly. “By the time of the next hearing, we should have all the paperwork in order for her to get her citizenship.”

“Good for her, and good for you.” Luke couldn’t help but grin as Rory beamed. 

“It was a joint effort,” Rory replied modestly. “I was only part of it, a small part. Laura did most of the work.” She paused to inhale coffee.

“Well, every little bit helps.”

“Who knew that my obsessive-compulsive researching skills would come in handy one day?” marveled Rory. She began pulling books out of her bag. “Speaking of which, I’ve got a couple of things to look up for tomorrow. You mind?”

“Nope, not like I’m busy.” 

Rory arranged her books across the counter. She thumbed through them, taking notes in a moleskin. Luke tended to the pair of tourists and the quartet of church ladies who comprised the entirety of the diner’s customers. 

Bustling through the door with her husband, Babette exclaimed, “Rory, honey! It’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“Hi Babette, hi Morey, I’m good. How are you?” Rory spun round and accepted Babette’s enthusiastic squeeze. She waved to Morey. 

“We’re going fine, sugar, just fine. We just stopped in to see if Luke had any more of that fabulous peach pie,” replied Babette. “We came in for dinner last night, but he’d already run out, can you believe it?”

“It’s good pie,” intoned Morey. 

“Sit down and I’ll bring you some,” Luke instructed them and pointed to a table. They did as directed. When Luke walked by her with two slices, Rory’s stomach grumbled. 

“Me too?” she asked, shifting books to clear a space. 

A piece of pie materialized a few seconds later. 

* * *

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” cursed Lorelai as she scrambled out of her Jeep. She strove to keep her limbs from touching, not wanting to spread the stickiness further.  “Stupid syrup, stupid inventory.”

“Lorelai, what are you doing doing home - oh, dear -” Babette got close enough to see the dark stains on Lorelai’s skirt and sweater. “Had an accident, sweetie?”

“Yeah. Mrs. Butterworth has it in for me.” Walking stiffly, Lorelai started for the house. 

“Well at least Rory looks to be doing better. It’s so nice to see her in town again.”

Lorelai wheeled, cringing when hair caught in the syrup. She pulled it free and demanded, “What?”

“Rory, in town, looking like her old self,” said Babette. “Took me back to when she used to wait for you at Luke’s whenever you had to work late.”

“What? What do you mean?” 

“We were just there - Morey loves the peach pie - and Rory was there. She had all these big books, doing something smart I’m sure.” When Lorelai remained silent, Babette tilted her head and leaned in. “We stopped by Patty’s and she said Rory’s been coming to Luke’s every Tuesday afternoon for six or seven weeks - she wasn’t sure which - you didn’t know?”

“I - ah - I have to get changed,” blurted Lorelai. She hammered up the stairs and slammed the front door behind her. 

From her kitchen window, Babette winced when Lorelai slammed right back out of the house twenty minutes later with her wet hair in a ponytail. 

“Oh dear,” she murmured. “Trouble in paradise.” 

Lorelai sped away in a cloud of dust. 

* * *

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I want to stop this non-talking thing with Mom.” Rory fiddled with her pencil. 

“You do?”

“I’m still not going back to Yale, at least not this semester, and I know she’s still going to be mad about that. And she’s still going to be mad about the whole living-with-the-grandparents-working-at-the-DAR thing, and the Logan-thing, but I’m making progress with my community service. I have a plan to get it done,” said Rory. 

She checked off the assignments on her fingers. “Monday, Wednesday, Fridays mornings at the International Institute, afternoons working at the D.A.R. Add two hours of tutoring English on Monday and Wednesday evenings plus Thursday morning at the senior center - that’s twenty-two hours a week. It took me awhile to get this all organized so I’m not as far as I would have been if I’d done this from the start but I should still finish my three hundred hours by the beginning of October, maybe earlier.”

She paused and seemed to want some sort of response. Luke nodded and said, “I know. I’ve gone over it with you, remember?”

“Yes, you did. So I’m on track, and really, if I went back to Yale, then it would take me even longer to get it done and it would be really hard with school so it’s actually better this way.”

Luke grunted in disapproval but he forwent saying anything. 

“Once I’m done, I can re-evaluate. In the meantime, I’m actually enjoying working with the Institute and I feel like I’m making a difference, you know? And as crazy as I’m sure Mom will think it is, the D.A.R. is not that bad and I’ve gotten to get to know Grandmother much better. It’s been good,” Rory said. “Laura already told me she’d be happy to have me keep volunteering this fall, and I can continue working at the D.A.R. It’s not like I’ll be doing nothing.” 

“No, it’s not.”

“I miss her, Luke. I miss my Mom. I have a list of things I want to tell her, but I can’t. I hate it.” Rory’s voice went creaky with pain. She sniffed, took a deep breath, and said, “Even if she’s still mad at me, I need to talk to her.”

“She misses you too, Rory. I know she does.”

“I’m going to call her this week. I’m going to call her and ask her to meet me here,” Rory said decisively. “Ask her if we can just drink coffee and talk about movies and Sookie’s latest bizarre-but-delicious creation and whatever’s bugging Michel this week. Nothing serious, not yet, just normal stuff.”

With pleading eyes, she looked up at Luke. “Do you think she’ll come?”

“She’ll come,” Luke reassured her, solemn as a sermon. “Rory, she’ll come.” 

Rory’s shoulders relaxed, and the corners of her lips turned upwards. “Okay. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“You do that.”

Rory resumed her note-taking; Luke resumed refilling the sugar containers.

* * *

Lorelai Gilmore had plenty of experience being enraged at people. At her parents, naturally, at Christopher when he failed once again to deliver on a promise, at her classmates who whispered slut behind her back, at everyone who had ever looked at Rory and seen anything other than perfection. 

Luke had been exempt from that list. They bickered, they argued, they fought, but Lorelai had never felt the blind rage that swallowed her now.

Even with Jess and the car accident, she’d been freaked out and upset and more angry at Jess than him. 

Flinging open the door, she stormed into the diner. 

“Mom!” “Lorelai!” 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, uncaring of the handful of people inside. 

“Having coffee?” Rory ventured. She and Luke exchanged an apprehensive look, and Lorelai’s blood boiled. 

“Having coffee?” she repeated shrilly. “For the last six or seven - Miss Patty didn’t know which - weeks?”

Luke started, “Lorelai -”

Cutting him off, she demanded, “When were you going to tell me? How could you - we agreed - and you went behind my back?”

“I asked him not to tell you,” Rory said quickly. “It’s not his fault.”

“Rory, I -” Luke started. 

“Don’t.” Lorelai made a swiping gesture at Luke. “We’re not talking to her remember?”

“Mom!”

“Rory, it’s okay. Lorelai, I’m not going to argue about this here.”

“What do you mean -”

“Upstairs now.” Luke pointed up. 

Lorelai’s face contorted before she spat out, “Fine.” Ponytail smacking against her back, she stalked to the curtains and nearly ripped them aside. 

Rory flinched at the thunderous bangs of her heels as she ascended. 

“Luke, I’m -”

Luke placed a hand on her arm, halting her. “Don’t say you’re sorry, Rory.”

“I should have never asked you to keep this from her. I should have never come-”

“Rory, listen to me very carefully.” Luke stepped out from behind the counter and gently gripped Rory’s shoulders. “Whatever happens between you and your mother, and me and your mother, I will always be there for you. Always. You might have asked, but I agreed and I’ll deal with the consequences. I’m glad that you felt you could come here; I wanted you to come here. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but -”

“No buts.” Luke glanced upwards nervously. “I’m going to go talk with her. She can be mad at me, that’s fine. Won’t be the first time. But me telling you that couldn’t come here or that you shouldn’t was never an option. Got it?”

“Got it,” Rory whispered. 

With a final pat of her shoulder, he followed Lorelai upstairs. 

* * *

 

“You can’t do this!” she shouted at him as soon as he crossed the threshold. “We agreed.”

“No, we didn’t,” Luke insisted, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t yell, aware of Rory downstairs and how sound carried in the building.

“Yes, we did! Rory stole a boat, dropped out of Yale, went to live with my  _ parents _ , and made it very clear she didn’t care what I thought. So we agreed, tough love. No sympathy, no coddling, no pretending that everything was fine,” she ranted, pacing the room. “She screwed up. Period. She doesn’t get to just forget about that.” 

“She made a mistake. People make mistakes. She’s fixing it.”

“Is she going back to Yale?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Is she moving out of the pool house?”

“No.”

“Has she stopped seeing that Logan?”

“No.”

“Then she’s not fixing it, Luke.” Lorelai shook her fists above her head. “God, I thought you understood. She’s screwing up her entire life.”

“I don’t think she is,” Luke declared. “Yes, she did something stupid. Do I think she’s way too smart to not go back to Yale, yes I do, and she knows that I think that because I told her. I just don’t think this one rough patch is going to ruin her life.” 

“In case you’ve forgotten, it only takes the one ‘something stupid’ to completely derail someone’s future,” Lorelai shouted. “We had plans, her and me. Chilton, Harvard - which became Yale - traveling the world, writing for the New York Times - and she’s throwing it all away.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, bully for you.” 

“Lorelai -”

“No, don’t you ‘Lorelai’ me. You betrayed me, just like my parents,” she accused him. “That night - the night I asked you to marry me - what was that, a lie?”

“No, I meant it but - it was a shock and I - said the first thing that came into my head. When Rory came in the first time I, I realized she didn’t need me to yell at her. She didn’t need me telling her she messed up because she already knew she had,” Luke replied, his own voice rising. “So I didn’t. I haven’t. I’ve tried to listen to her, tried to let her tell me what she needed, tried to help if I can.”

“What she needed? Luke, what she needs is a swift kick in the pants. Not coffee and pie and you telling her everything’s going to be okay.”

“And how would you know that? You haven’t spoken to her in over two months.”

“Because she’s my daughter. I know what she needs!” screeched Lorelai, tapping her chest. “I’m her mother. I know!”

Luke scrubbed his face, then huffed. 

“What.”

He shook his head. “Lorelai -”

“What is it?” she fairly snarled. 

“You told me your mother says that.”

“You’re comparing me to Emily?” Lorelai’s mouth hung open. “My mother?”

“It just sounds, you know what’s best for Rory without even talking to her, without even listening to her - it sounds a lot like the way your parents treat you.”

Reeling, Lorelai closed her eyes briefly. “I can’t believe you just said that. I am not my mother or my father. I know what Rory wants; she’s just gotten off the path a bit. Once she’s come to her senses, she’ll realize I was right.”

“What if she doesn’t get back on the path? What if she decides to go in a different direction - a different school, a different career, she likes helping out on these immigration cases,” demanded Luke. “What then?”

“Wait are you encouraging her to become a lawyer now? Like Nicole?”

Luke crinkled his nose, bewildered by the pointed reference. “No, I’m just saying. Rory could change her mind.”

“Rory has known what she wanted since before she could swim in the deep end by herself.” Lorelai folded her arms. “She’s confused, and I don’t want you putting ideas in her head.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, she’s my kid and I want you to stop enabling her.”

Luke went still. He growled, “Stop enabling her how?”

“Stop this Tuesday thing - or any day thing. If she wants to talk to someone, she can talk to me.” 

“Are you telling me I’m not allowed to talk to or see Rory?” Luke asked disbelievingly, his eyebrows flying up. 

“Well, yes, yes I am.” Lorelai raised her chin. “Starting now.”

“You’re insane,” gasped Luke. “No.”

“No?”

“N. O. No.”

“She’s my daughter, I’m her mother. If I tell you to stay away -”

“I’m your goddamn fiance. Hell, even if I weren’t - you know what, if Rory were twelve or fifteen or even eighteen, and you told me that, I’d do it,” shouted Luke, gesticulating as he spoke. “But she’s not. She’s an adult. My relationship with her does not have to go through you.”

“I can’t believe this!” Lorelai flung her hands into the air. “This isn’t up for debate, Luke. This isn’t a request. I’m her mother, and we might be engaged although I don’t know how long that’s gonna be true for - and you  _ are not _ her father. You don’t get a say.”

“We’re engaged and I don’t get a say? Is that how this is going to work? I can be your boyfriend and your lover and your husband, but I’m not allowed to be Rory’s father -”

“STEP-father.”

“Step-father, whatever.” Throwing his baseball cap onto the table, Luke yanked at his hair. “It’s you and her, and I’m not invited, is that it? The Gilmore girls, and I’m what, what am I? I’m allowed this close but no closer. I’m allowed to love you, to marry you, but I’m not part of the family? What, Lorelai, because I’d really like to know where I stand!”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Lorelai snorted. “I’m not going to answer that ridiculousness.”

“Am I really?” Luke stomped to the window, drew in several shuddering breaths, and whirled back around. “You wanted a partner. I assumed you meant with Rory too.”

“But I have the final say. I carried her inside me, I went through hours of labor, I raised her. That means I get to decide for us when it comes to Rory,” said Lorelai. 

“Not about this,” Luke insisted. “You don’t want to talk to Rory until she admits you’re right and she’s wrong, and agrees to live her life the way you want, fine. That’s your decision. I think it’s a stupid decision, but it’s your decision. I won’t fight you on it. However, I have a right to make my own decision and my decision is not to cut Rory off. I won’t do it. I care about her too much. If Rory ever wants me out of her life, all she has to do is say so and I’ll go. Until then, and unless she does something way worse like murdering someone - and maybe not even then - I’m going to be there for her.”

“You would choose Rory over me?” 

“I’m not choosing anyone over anyone!”

“Rory or me?” 

“No.”

Twisting her ring, Lorelai demanded through furious tears, “Luke, for the last time, Rory or me?”

“That’s not a choice.”

“Yes, it is and you just made it.” Yanking the ring off, she slammed it onto the kitchen table. “Goodbye.”

Dumbly, Luke stared at her as she bolted out the door. It rattled with the force of her exit. 

Luke didn’t hear it. He didn’t hear anything except the echoing thud of his own heartbeat, impossibly loud inside his head. 

* * *

Rory hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. She’d begun packing her books, wanting to be gone by the time Luke and her mother came back down. She’d planned to leave a note for Luke so he wouldn’t worry.

Then the shouting had started. Her mother’s, mostly, at least at first. 

She couldn’t quite make out the words, but the tone had been enough. 

Guilt had pushed her to the stairwell. She was responsible for this. 

Rory had crept up the stairs, cringing as the words became distinguishable. Tucking herself into a corner beside the door, she listened with growing horror. 

When her mother fled, she flew right by Rory without noticing her. 

Rory opened her mouth, trying to call out for her, but she choked and Lorelai kept going, stampeding down the stairs. 

Half-expecting Luke to charge after her, Rory waited, pinching her ear so she wouldn’t cry. 

He didn’t.

Rory waited, counting backwards from sixty and digging the edges of her nails into both ears, before tapping on the clouded glass. 

“Luke?”

He didn’t answer. 

She cracked the door and peeked in. Luke sat at the table, motionless. 

“Luke?” 

He jerked. “Rory.” He covered his face with his hands for a moment before he looked at her and asked softly, “How much of that did you hear?”

“Enough.” Her feet dragging, she walked to the table and sat. She picked up the ring, turning it this way and that. It reminded her of a flower, with the one big diamond in the middle and the ten little ones surrounding it, and the etching on the sides like leaves. “It’s a beautiful ring. Perfect for Mom.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to but I thought...I thought your mom would really want to be the one to tell you. We haven’t set a date or anything...” 

“God, Luke, I...please don’t apologize, please,” managed Rory in a strangled voice. “I don’t care about that - I mean about not telling me, I did know, Mom blurted it out in the street - I was happy about it and now, I’ve ruined everything and  _ I’m _ sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Rory, it’s -”

“It’s not okay. It’s not. I wanted this, Luke, for you and Mom. I wanted you two to be happy and together and I was imaging the speech I would give and now -” Rory gulped. “I can’t let this happen. You and Mom belong together. I won’t let myself get in the way, I’ll stop coming, I’ll stop -”

“No, don’t, not unless  _ you _ want to,” Luke interrupted her. 

“Luke, I’ll be fine, I have a plan.” She plastered on a smile, so plastic and fake that it belonged on a Barbie doll. “Really.”

“That’s not the point, Rory.” He extended an open palm; Rory laid the ring in it. The diamonds glittered against his calluses and the multitude of scars left by decades of cooking and home repairs and woodcarving. 

When he spoke, there was a roughness to it. “When my father died, Buddy and Maisy did everything they could to help. For almost a year, Buddy drove here two or three times a week, teaching me how to run this place. Maisy called every single day, checking on me. I don’t know what I would have done without them.”

“When I asked them why, they said it was because I was family. I pointed out that they really weren’t, not by blood, not by marriage.” Tracing the ring’s circumference, Luke continued, “There are two types of family, they said, the kind you’re born with, and the kind you choose. The first, you don’t get a choice. The second, you do, and that we were family.”

He met Rory’s eyes. “I chose you and your mom a long time ago. Before I ever thought, dreamed, that Lorelai and I could be more than friends. You’re family to me. I’d do pretty much anything for either of you and I’ll never not be there if you need me, not if I’m still breathing. If your mom can’t accept that...then maybe it’s best that this -” He held up the ring. “ - ends now. It - we - wouldn’t have worked out.”

He let the ring fall into his palm and closed his fist around it. “And if I’ve lost her, I’d really rather not lose you too unless that’s really what you want.”

“It’s not, it’s not, I swear it’s not,” exclaimed Rory. She catapulted from her chair and flung her arms around him.  No longer trying not to cry, she sniffled into his shoulder, awkwardly hunched over. “I choose you too.”

Rubbing her back, Luke passed her napkins until the tears slowed. Rory straightened, allowing him to stand. 

They stood in silence for a minute, Rory drying the last tears. 

Muffled and distant, the bell jangled. 

“Crap,” Luke mumbled and instantly glanced at Rory. “Sorry.”

With a weak laugh, Rory said, “You know I’m not twelve any more. I’ve been to college. I’ve heard much, much worse than ‘crap’. You should hear Paris when she’s drunk and mad. Sailors could learn a thing or two from her.”

“Somehow, that makes complete sense. That girl is scary.”

“You got that right.” 

A warbled “Luke!” from the diner caused him to groan. 

“Kirk.” Luke heaved a sigh and his stoic expression stuttered into place. “I’d better get down there. God knows what he’d do if left alone.”

“Yeah. Mind if I clean myself up a bit?” Rory bobbed her head towards the sink. “I don’t want everyone to see me like this, all blotchy.”

“Take as long as you need.” 

He left, and Rory didn’t think it was her imagination that made his footsteps slower and heavier than normal.  

Rory washed her face and hands. She dried them with a towel embellished with anthropomorphized muffins. Her heart twisted when she wondered if her Mom had given it to him. 

The ring lay on the kitchen table again, Luke having relinquished it sometime during her crying jag.

“You are the perfect ring,” she told it, picking it up. “You’re coming with me, okay? He picked us, but we picked him too, even if Mom’s forgotten. I haven’t and I’ll make sure she remembers.”

She tucked the ring carefully into her pocket. “I’ll keep you safe until you can be back where you belong.”

Once downstairs, and with Kirk distracting Luke, she transferred the ring to the inside zippered pouch of her purse. 

“One more cup?” Luke offered, pot in hand. His stoic expression flickered and Rory hurt with him. He recovered, good old Luke once more. 

“One more cup. I’m in no hurry.” 

She stayed until Cesar and Lane arrived to prep for the dinner rush. 

Exchanging promises to catch up soon with Lane, she swung her messenger bag onto her shoulder and hugged Luke a final time. Hugs had become part of their goodbye. He held on a second longer than usual. 

“I’ll see you next week, maybe sooner,” she promised. “I feel a craving for burgers coming on.”

“You’ll always be welcome here, Rory.”

“Bye, Luke.”

“Bye.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Lorelai’s rage encased her in a bubble for the following six days. She avoided the diner, avoided the whole town square, avoided any place she might have to see Luke. She ate Poptarts for breakfast, lunch at the inn, and dinner either at the inn or delivery.

She ranted to the television, the stereo, and the wall. She flung every item that reminded her of Luke into boxes, and flung the boxes into the shed. Her house and closet looked barer but Lorelai ignored that.

Luke called three times. She didn’t answer.

He left messages asking her to call him so they could talk. He apologized for not letting her about the visits, but that was as far as he went.

Lorelai listened to each message once before erasing it.

Rory called once.

“Mom, please don’t do this. Don’t punish Luke for my mistakes. Please. Call him. Talk. Please, Mom.”

Lorelai listened to the message once, but never erased it.

She might have continued in her anger-bubble for longer if her car battery hadn’t died Monday afternoon. The inn’s head groundskeeper, Glen, jumpstarted her with the kit they kept on the premises. Using the drive-through to drop off the deposit at the bank first, Lorelai drove to Hewes.

Gypsy scooted out from underneath a Ford Taurus when she parked. Scowling, the petite woman stomped over to Lorelai.

“What’s wrong with it this time?” she barked.

“Battery quit. I need a new one please,” requested Lorelai with her best friendly, please-help smile. She squashed the treacherous thought that if it’d had been a week ago, she wouldn’t have needed Gypsy.  

Gypsy crossed her arms and snorted. “Fine. I’ll do it after I finish with Mrs. Harrington’s. Come back in three hours.”

“Three hours?” Lorelai repeated. She implored, “Couldn’t you do it now? It’ll only take a minute, please?”

“You hard of hearing? I said three hours. I meant three hours.”

“Gypsy -”

“Keep yapping and it’ll be four.” Gypsy made a gimmie motion. “Keys.”

“Here.” Lorelai plopped the keys into Gypsy’s hand. Without another word, the other woman returned to the Taurus and vanished under it.

“Thanks,” murmured Lorelai sarcastically. “Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

She dialed the Dragonfly, and informed Michel that she would be out for the rest of the afternoon. He grumbled about abandoning him; Lorelai rolled her eyes and told him to deal with it.

Lorelai considered going home, but remembered that she’d used the last of the coffee that morning. She needed more, and needed a jolt sooner rather than later.

Her chin went up and she strode towards the town center.

When she reached it, her jaw clenched as her eyes passed over Luke’s. Red threatened her vision when she distinguished him serving a window table.

Tossing her hair, she deliberately averted her gaze and headed for Doose’s.

She entered with a “Hi, Taylor,” prepped on her lips with which to respond to the proprietor’s old-fashioned-customer-service greeting.

No greeting came. He simply looked up, saw her, and resumed scanning Roy Bates’ Campbell soups.

Feeling as if the world had tilted, Lorelai located the coffee. She grabbed two satchels and brought them to the register.

“Hi, Taylor,” she said as she placed the coffee on the conveyor belt. “How are you?”

“Hello, Lorelai. I’m fine, thanks.”

She waited in vain for him to inquire after her wellness.

“That’ll be six dollar and fourteen cents,” he said instead. Lorelai handed him a five and two ones. She received her change without a “Come again soon,” or a “We appreciated your business.”

“Goodbye, Taylor.”

“Goodbye.”

Offput by Taylor’s deviations, Lorelai ducked into Weston’s with the hope that coffee and something with lots and lots of calories would restore her equilibrium.

She ordered a coffee and a Confetti Fun cupcake for there. They were delivered to her table with a perfectly polite, “Here you are, miss. Enjoy.”

Coffee and cupcake quickly devoured, Lorelai ordered another round. She felt better already. For her second cupcake, she selected the Midnight Magic Chocolate Chip; the triple hit of chocolate batter, chocolate frosting, and chocolate sprinkles should complete the cure.

She was licking icing from her fingers when Miss Patty sailed into the bakery.

“A vanilla frappe, if you please, and one of those delicious, delectable lemon meringue tarts,” she announced in a flutter of printed flowers.

“For here or to go?” asked the girl behind the counter.

“For here, sweetie,” replied Miss Patty.

“Come sit by me, Patty,” Lorelai called, waved, and patted the empty chair at her table. “Tell me if the Fletcher cousins have declared a truce or if the feud continues.”

Miss Patty froze, about to pay. She looked at Lorelai, sobered a little, and pressed the money into the cashier’s hand.

“On second thought, to go please,” she told the girl. “Sorry for the trouble.”

To Lorelai, she said plainly, “Another time, perhaps. I must get back to the studio.”

“Oh...okay.”

The part of the cupcake eaten after Miss Patty tasted a quarter as good as the part before Miss Patty. Lorelai took large bites and swigged her coffee, wanting to get away.

When done, she checked her phone. It had only been forty-five minutes. She needed to kill two hours and fifteen minutes more.

Rising with a sigh, she decided on stopping by Kim’s Antiques. There were a couple of rooms in the Dragonfly that still lacked signature pieces. At the very least, hunting through the cluttered shop should wile away a decent chunk of time.

Lorelai cut through the square and trotted up the pathway to the white house slash business.

Opening the door, she called, “Mrs. Kim?”

“All china ten percent off, you break it you buy it!” came from the depths.

“It’s Lorelai!” Guessing at the voice’s direction, Lorelai wound her way deeper inside until she found the kitchen.

“Hi Mrs. Kim, hi Lane,” she enthused with a smile for the young woman. She noticed the two cups of tea on the table. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Just for a couple of days. Gil had some family stuff. Then it’s back to the road.” Lane said, shifting in her seat. For a couple of seconds, she wouldn’t look at Lorelai. Finally, she swallowed and did so. Lorelai blinked; Lane wore the tight expression she usually saved for when her own mother was being unreasonable but Lane couldn’t openly disagree.

Pushing back her chair, Lane stood and said, “I’m sorry, Mama. I have to go. I’ve got laundry.”

“Alright. I’m making kelp noodles tomorrow. I’ll bring some by.”

“Sounds good, thanks. Gotta run. Bye, Mom. Bye, Lorelai.”

“Bye?” Lorelai watched Lane vanish into the furniture at an impressive speed.

Sniffing herself, Lorelai asked rhetorically, “Do I smell? I thought I showered this morning, but maybe I only imagined I showered because boy are people in a hurry to get out of nose range today.”

“You smell fine.”

“Okay, if it’s not the smell, do I suddenly have some strange sort of disease that makes me look like the creature from the black lagoon to everyone except myself?”

“No.” Mrs. Kim carried the dirty cups to the sink.

“Then what?” Lorelai demanded.

Fidgeting, all but tapping her foot, Lorelai waited for a reply. Mrs. Kim rinsed out the cups and the teapot, dried them, placed them on a rack, and stated, “I do not understand you.”

“What?”

“You hop from man to man, first this one, then that one. You’re engaged, you’re not engaged, you’re with Rory’s father, you’re not with him, on and on, and finally, finally, you settle on someone decent, you throw it away.”

Lorelai gaped at her.

Mrs. Kim continued, “We know. The whole town knows. We know you and Luke are not together - and we know why. You shout very loud.”

Bristling, Lorelai protested, “If you know, then I would think you of all people would understand. You’re a mother, when you saw Lane going down the path you thought was wrong, you did what you had to. I just did the same.”

“If I remember, you didn’t think I did the right thing with Lane,” countered Mrs. Kim.

“Well, yeah, I guess I did,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Luke is a good man. Needs to shave and go to church, but a good man. Hard worker, never asks for anything, built his own business from the ground up, honors his father - a good man.”

“Yes, I know! But he was interfering, he had no right, she’s my daughter -”

“And you let Lane listen to devil-music at your house, eat pizza and donuts, wear makeup - was that wrong? You are not Lane’s mother.” Mrs. Kim huffed when Lorelai glared but failed to rebut. “You see? You have no excuse. Luke is a good man, he did not deserve that.”

“Yes, he’s a good man, you’ve already mentioned it. He’s no saint though. Since when are you his champion anyways? I didn’t know you were close.”

Mrs. Kim shot her a contemptuous look. “You make a joke. Fine, I’ll tell you a story. Sit.” She pointed at a chair. “There.”

Lorelai obeyed, curiosity warring with anger. Mrs. Kim sat opposite her, folding her hands atop one another.

“Lane was eight months old. We did not live here, we lived in a house on Magnolia, one of those rental places. My husband was away on business, it was late November, and the heat went out. We had no phone, and I did not know anyone, had only been in this country a short time, did not have anyone to ask for help.”

“I walked into town. I carried Lane. Almost all the shops were closed except the hardware store. It was open, I went inside. Luke was there. I saw a phone, asked if I could use it. He said yes. I called the hotel my husband was at but no answer, left a message. I did not know what to do.”

“Luke overhead me, asked if something was wrong. I told him about the heater, asked if he knew someone who could fix it who wouldn’t charge a lot. We were young, just starting out, did not have much.”

“He said he could come see what’s wrong, maybe fix it himself. Or he would know who to call.” Mrs. Kim shook her head. “But he was a strange man. I did not want him in my house with me and Lane alone. I told him so.”

“What did he do?”

“He told us to wait there and left. We waited, and he came back with Mrs. Applegate. I recognized her from church. I took them back to our house. Mrs. Applegate sat with me and Lane while he worked. He fixed the heater. Wouldn’t take any money.”

Lorelai felt like she couldn’t breathe. She was there with Mrs. Kim all those years ago: alone in a strange place, no family, no friends, her baby girl counting on her, the house growing colder and colder, trying desperately to think of something. Trudging in the cold, her daughter bundled up and heavy in her arms, finding that warm, bright safe-haven complete with unexpected kindness hidden beneath flannel and a baseball cap.

“Many people in this town, they did not like me at first. I was foreign, did not speak English well, did not know American things. Luke did not care. We needed help, he helped. Did not ask for anything. Lane went to bed warm that night because of him.” Mrs. Kim pointed at Lorelai. “I never forgot. He is the same now as he was then. Do you think I would have let Lane work at the diner if I did not trust him? If I did not know that he would never let harm come to her?”

Her rage-bubble exploded into a billion pieces, each one dagger-sharp. Stumbling upright, Lorelai gasped, “Sorry, I can’t - I’ve got to go.”

She flew from the shop, repeating an internal mantra of ‘she’s wrong, what does she know, I know what’s best for Rory.’

She strode faster and faster. Her heels prevented her from running, but Lorelai set a personal record making it from the town center to the Dragonfly.

Once there, she barricaded herself in her office and tried to reignite the anger she’d been holding onto. She conjured images of Rory in Luke’s, talking and drinking coffee and eating pie.

The anger didn’t come.

Instead, a wave of nausea swept over Lorelai. She sank into her chair and dropped her head into her hands.

“Fuck.”

She had never been more grateful to Michel than when he barged in with a panicked bride on the phone. At that moment, she would have rather handled anyone’s problems than her own.

* * *

“Here, you look like you need it,” Sookie said, bustling into Lorelai’s office. She placed a cup of coffee and a plate of petit-fours at Lorelai’s elbow. Lorelai closed her laptop before grabbing the cup .“All done with inventory? And the payroll?”

“Thanks, and yes.” Lorelai gulped the coffee and tried hard not to wonder if Rory was even now seated on a counter stool. Tried hard not to wonder if Luke would attempt - for the thousandth time - to cajole her into eating a vegetable.

It didn’t work.

“Lorelai.” Sookie sat across from her friend. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong, the same thing that was wrong yesterday. Rory, Luke, hell the whole town knows Sookie.”

“Yes, but yesterday you were all fiery and ranty and -” Sookie made vaguely boxing-like gestures. “- And today, you come in looking like you haven’t slept in a week, you didn’t make fun of Michel’s uneven eyebrow wax, you’ve avoided interacting with guests which you usually love - honey, something changed.”

“Well, yesterday...I...you know, you never said what you thought about -” Lorelai waved her hand in a circle. “- this situation. You listened to me rant and you uh-uhed at the right parts but you didn’t actually say what you thought.”

“Because I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to support you.”

“So that means what?”

“It means, please don’t be mad at me, while I would normally say all men are scum and the world would be better if we shipped them to the moon - except Jackson and Davey - I can’t. Not this time.” Sookie fussed with a stray brochure on Lorelai’s desk. “I can’t and it - I was worried okay? If you don’t want Luke to see Rory, he was your fiancee, what about me? What if you…”

“No, sweetie, no,” Lorelai rushed to reassure Sookie. Patting Sookie’s hand, she said firmly, “I wouldn’t, I would never ask you to stay away from Rory.”

Sookie cocked her head and asked intently, “Then why did you tell Luke he couldn’t?”

Lorelai’s smile belonged in a funhouse mirror - a cracked, tarnished one. “Because I was jealous. Because she went to him and not to me. Because I looked at her and all I could see was that she was making a massive, massive mistake just like me that was going to derail her life. And what did that say about me as a mother? That I screwed up? Again? Because I was so convinced that I was right, so convinced that Rory had to do what I say, that I refused to listen to her, refused to listen to Luke. Because I’m selfish and Rory is my daughter and I didn’t want to share, and I forgot - god I forgot - that it’s never been me and Rory against the world. I think that and then, I remember all the people who’ve been there for us: you, Mia, Babette and Morey, Kirk at times for God's sake - and Luke.”

“I fucked up, Sookie. Really bad this time. How could I do that? How?” Lorelai demanded, tears filling her eyes. “How could I stand there and claim to be acting in Rory’s best interests when I was willing to rip away the nearest thing to a father she’s ever had? I didn’t even think - not for a second - about how much that would have hurt her. Or about how much it would have hurt Luke.”

“Oh honey…” Yanking tissues from the box on the corner, Sookie passed them to Lorelai. “You were upset. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re upset.”

“Not like this.” Dabbing at her eyes, Lorelai crumbled the tissue in her fist. “I practically threw the engagement ring in his face, Sookie.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“No. He called, and left messages. He wanted to talk. I deleted them.”

Sookie sucked in air between her teeth. “Not good.”

“I was just so angry and then yesterday…and Mrs. Kim of all people, Mrs. Kim who thinks most men are the spawn of the devil, but she’s telling me that Luke is a good man and that story - and I didn’t need her to tell me that he’s a good man, I know he’s a good man, the best and suddenly it all came crashing down. Why do I do this, Sookie? Why do I always, always fuck things up?” exclaimed Lorelai, a sob catching in her throat. “Why?”

Sookie grasped Lorelai’s free hand, petting it soothingly. “Maybe you can fix it? He did call?”

“The last call was Friday. Nothing since.” Lorelai shrugged and grimaced. “Maybe he decided he’d had enough.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Sookie pulled Lorelai up and out of her chair. Sternly, she ordered her friend, “You’re going to go home, take a hot bath, order pizza, watch reruns of Bewitched, and go to bed. Do not think about Luke or Rory. Tomorrow, you’ll come in and we’re work out a strategy, okay?”

While talking, Sookie had been ushering Lorelai out of the office and into the main lobby of the inn. She now handed Lorelai her purse and shoved her towards the door. “Go!”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a watery smile, Lorelai backtracked and hugged Sookie. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now go!” Sookie pointed at the door.

“Going.”

* * *

Buoyed by Sookie’s friendship and hope, Lorelai allowed herself a cautious, faint spark of optimism. She nurtured it on the drive home, recalling other times when she and Luke had fought and how they’d always managed to reconcile. She even began trying to formulate the perfect apology.

The box on her porch hit her like a sledgehammer to the chest.

Her name was printed in the white space beside the red SYSCO label. As much as she wanted to believe the box had come from someone else, she didn’t know anyone other than Luke likely to use a box that had once contained thousands of paper napkins.  

It looked innocuous, sitting there. Just a box, two feet square, nothing to inspire the sudden hollowness of certain loss that she experienced upon seeing it.

Stealing herself, Lorelai pushed the box inside. She closed the door and sat on the floor of her entryway, the box in front of her.

With hands that shook, she opened the flaps.

He’d packed it neatly. CDs stacked in one corner, toiletries in a ziplock bag, clothes laundered and folded, magazines laid flat - the opposite of the Luke boxes in her shed.

Gnawing her cheek so she wouldn’t cry, she opened the unsealed envelope he’d laid on top.

The first slip of paper was in Luke’s handwriting. _I thought you might want these back._

The second slip was in Rory’s. _I lost my phone. I got a new one. The new number is 860-555-7878._

Lorelai sat on the floor, holding those two slips, for a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

In the following days, Lorelai forced herself to keep moving. She slept and ate and worked, all the while feeling as if she were a stranger in her own life. 

Despite Sookie’s urgings, she refused to contact Luke. She took his return of her things as a sign that he considered them over and done. 

“ - and take a right on Maple, go straight and -” Map in hand, Lorelai faltered in her explanation to the Rhodes of how to reach the town center. In doorway, Christopher waved, but Lorelai immediately refocused her attention on the Rhodes. “ - you’ll be there. It’s about a twenty minute walk.” 

“Thank you.” As the couple left, Christopher came forwards. 

“What are you doing here?” demanded Lorelai, barely keeping her voice civil. She only managed it because this was her inn and she would be damned if she caused a scene where her guests might see or hear. 

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? Rory’s not going back to Yale - that’s why I’m here. We need to figure out how to fix this.” 

Lorelai stared at him. In suit and tie, hair freshly trimmed, Christopher looked the part of the upstanding father-figure.  _ Looked _ being the key word. 

“Come with me. Michel!” 

The Frenchman strolled into view. “Yes?”

“I’ll be in my office.”

Once safely inside her office, with the door shut, she rounded on Christopher. “What is the ‘we’ you’re talking about? There is no ‘we’.”

“Yes, there is. You’re her mother, I’m her father, of course there’s a ‘we’.” With his most charming gosh-I’m-sorry smile, he said, “Lor, I know I’ve screwed up. The thing at your parents’ vow renewal - I don’t blame you or Rory for not talking to me after that - but this is Rory’s future we’re talking about.”

“I know that,” retorted Lorelai.

“My mother told me she’s living with your parents.”

“She is.” Rubbing her temples, Lorelai asked, “Just how do you expect to help her Chris?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure together we can think of something.” Christopher reached out to her. “Please, Lor, it’s for Rory.” 

“Chris…” She avoided his touch. “If you want to try, go ahead. I’m not stopping you.”

“She’s still not talking to me, Lor. When I email her, she might eventually reply, but all she says is that she’s fine and how’s Gigi.”

“We’re not talking either,” Lorelai informed him.

“Well, then, we tag-team her. You and me, why don’t we have lunch - or dinner - make a plan?” he entreated sweetly with yet another smile. 

For a split-second, she considered it. He sounded sincere. But right before a “I guess that would be alright” slipped off her tongue, Lorelai noticed how he’d stepped closer to her. How his fingers brushed her arm, how his body canted towards her, and the way his voice had grown softer and honeyed. 

She stopped the words and quickly put her desk between herself and him. 

“What about Italian, you love Italian,” Chris suggested, still smiling. “There’s this great little place in Hartford, they make the best spaghetti -” 

“What are you trying to pull, Chris?” she demanded. “What you’re suggesting sounds like a date.”

“It can just be two people, talking about their kid - but if you want to call it a date, hey, no objection from -”

“Oh my God.” Lorelai’s nostrils flared. “Are you serious -”

“I know you’re not with  _ him _ anymore. I ran into your father at the club and when I asked he said Rory said you weren’t together. Even if you were, you wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. We’re old friends, and I’m Rory’s father so I’m always going to be a part of your life,” said Christopher. 

“And her life, right?” asked Lorelai in a deceptively mild manner. 

Oblivious, Christopher answered, “Right.”

“Get out.” 

“What?”

“Get. Out.” Her eyes attempting to fillet him alive, Lorelai ordered, “You heard me. Leave. Vamoose. Get. Out.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you didn’t come here for Rory. You came here - using Rory as an excuse - because you heard I was single again. You couldn’t give a rat’s ass about Rory; you just wanted to use her as a way to get to me -”

“Now, Lor, that’s -”

“No, no more, Chris. You want a relationship with Rory? Fine. Man up and work it out with her. I’m not going to be greasing the wheels anymore. And you and me - we’re finished,” declared Lorelai, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Got it?”

She marched past Christopher, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to get coffee. By the time I get back, I want you gone. Capiche?”

Lorelai threw open the door and strode out. 

“ - and a spritz of lemon juice.” Lorelai heard Sookie before she entered the kitchen. “And basil, mustn’t forget the basil.”

“Sookie, tell me there’s -” She jerked to a stop, grabbing the counter for balance. “Luke?”

“Lorelai.” He looked as shocked as she felt. 

Sookie burst into an explanation. “Our pasta maker broke, and I wanted to make fettuccini tonight, and I thought who else in town would own a pasta maker, and Luke was the only person I could think of. So I called him and he said he’d bring it over, and so here it is.” She struck a Vanna White-esque pose with the aforementioned pasta maker. “Ta-da!”

“Oh...thank you,” said Lorelai to Luke. She twisted her hands together to prevent herself from doing something rash like burying them in flannel and refusing to let go. 

He shrugged. “It’s not big a deal. Not like I was using it. You should check the warranty on yours, though.”

“Yes, we will.” 

He looked tired. There were lines around his mouth and eyes, a dullness to his complexion that she knew was mirrored in her own. She used concealer and blush to hide it; Luke didn’t have that option. 

“Good,” he replied. To Sookie, he said, “Keep it as long as you need it.”

“Okay, thanks.” The chef looked between him and Lorelai, anxiety writ large on her face. “I promise I’ll take good care of it.” 

Luke nodded and said, “I should be going.”

“Yes, of course,” said Sookie.

He began to turn and Lorelai’s heart lurched. “Luke -”

“Yes?” Pausing, his eyes met hers. Their blue drowned out the rest of the kitchen, the rest of the world. She didn’t notice Sookie shooing her assistants out and following them herself. 

“I - I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I should have said it days ago. I’m so, so sorry, Luke.”

“For what, exactly?” 

She ventured two steps closer to him. “For everything I said that day. Everything, all of it, every last word. If I could turn back time, I would and not say any of it.”

His shoulders rose and fell as he breathed heavily. “Lorelai -”

“Please - I don’t expect - well, anything.” She took another step. “I just, I needed you to know that. You don’t have to respond, you don’t have to forgive me, you don’t have to ever speak to or see me again, but please believe me when I say I was wrong and that I’m sorry for the pain I caused you.”

Searching her face, Luke said finally, “I believe you.” 

“Good, because I mean it.” 

Silence stretched between them. For once in her life, Lorelai didn’t have the faintest idea what to say. She knew what she wanted to say - I love you, I miss you, please can we try again? - but she didn’t know how he would react. She wanted magic words that would fix everything between them but had no clue as to what those would be.

Sookie’s shout broke the silence. “You can’t go in there! Stop!”

Rapid footsteps diverted their attention to the doorway. A second later, Christopher barged through, Sookie on his heels. 

“Lorelai, I was waiting for you - we have to talk about this - what’s he doing here?” he demanded. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Lorelai saw Luke move as if to leave by the back door. She whirled and caught his wrist. “Don’t go, please.” 

His eyes roamed first over her, then Christopher, and then settled on her once more. Whatever he saw, it prompted him to step back towards her and plant his feet. Turned so Christopher couldn’t see, she mouthed, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, Lorelai, I couldn’t stop him -” Sookie began, but Lorelai shook her head as she faced Christopher.

“It’s fine, Sookie. Thanks for trying.” Her spine straightened, and her mouth hardened. Of Christopher, she demanded, “What are you still doing here? I told you to leave.”

“Come on, Lor, I figured I’d give you a minute to cool down, get some coffee -”

“Sookie, would you do me a favor and find Nathan and Sean? I would like them to escort Mr. Hayden off the property, immediately.” 

“I’ll go get them.” Sookie seemed a little gleeful at the request and hurried away. 

Behind her, Luke muttered darkly, “I’d be happy to do it.”

Lorelai glanced back at him. “Yes, but your way would probably end with broken bones. I’ll keep it in mind though.”

“Lor -”

“I think I’ve been very clear, Christopher. Leave voluntarily or I’ll have you tossed out.”

“What about Rory?”

“If you want to talk about Rory - and only Rory - you may call me. Once. I will call you if and when I decide to. Otherwise, I want you out of my life. Do you understand me?” 

“Lor, you can’t be -”

“Do you understand me?” she repeated, eyes flashing. At her back, Luke shifted his weight, clearing his throat in a manner similar to a growl. “Leave. Now.”

Sean and Nathan appeared behind Christopher. While shorter than Christopher, both men outmuscled him by a significant factor. 

For a second, Christopher puffed up, indignant. 

Nathan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, sir. You heard Miss Gilmore.”

Like a punctured balloon, Christopher deflated. With one last pleading look at Lorelai, he allowed the two men to escort him away. 

Slumping against the counter, Lorelai sighed in relief. 

“Has he been bothering you?” Luke asked. 

“He turned up today. Using Rory as an excuse.” Touching his elbow, she said, “Thank you, for staying.”

“You asked,” he said. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Hoped you would.” With a nod toward the back door, she asked, “Could we talk?”

“I really do have to get back to the diner,” Luke said. “I only meant to be gone fifteen minutes.”

“Oh...sure, I understand.”

“But, I could come by the house. Around eight?”

“Yes, eight’s perfect,” Lorelai assured him quickly. 

“Okay. Eight o’clock.” 

Lorelai watched him go. When she turned around, Sookie was smiling at her. 

“See, I told you not to give up,” the chef said. 

“Don’t jinx it.” Lorelai pulled her phone from her pocket. “Do you think you and Michel could manage without me for a bit longer? There’s something else I need to do.”

“You betcha.” 

“Thanks, Sook. You’re the best.” 

She walked outside, dialing a number she’d memorized but never used. 

* * *

Twenty-odd miles away, Rory Gilmore extracted her cell phone from her purse. She flipped it open without checking the number.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Mom?” 

* * *

Lorelai wiped sweaty palms on her jeans and rose from the porch’s sofa as Luke walked into view. He carried two to-go cups.

“You brought coffee,” she called as soon as he was within reasonable hearing distance. She descended the front steps and met him at the bottom. 

“I figured it couldn’t hurt.” He handed her one cup, keeping the other. “Tea for me.”

“Right, yeah, definitely can’t hurt.” Lorelai cradled the cup. “Thank you.”

They fidgeted. Lorelai tipped her head towards the front door. Hesitantly, she asked, “Do you want to come in?”

He looked at his feet and his shoulders shrugged the slightest bit. 

“Okay...um...sit?” Lorelai gestured at the steps. 

Luke glanced at Babette’s house with a raised brow. 

“Morey got a gig somewhere. They’re gone until tomorrow,” Lorelai explained. 

“Ah...stairs are good.” 

They settled onto the top step, a careful six inches of space between them. Cicadas bleated around them. An evening breeze eased the early August heat and humidity. The approaching sunset filtered through the leaves in gold and orange rays. 

After about a minute of silence, Lorelai ventured, “So...I called Rory today. After that whole - after.”

“You did?”

“I did. We talked for a few minutes. Nothing major, just you know, about the crazy guests that wanted their sheets changed three times a day and wanted to examine the detergent we use to be extra-sure it was hypoallergenic even though Cindy, Michel, and I all told them it was. But no, they were convinced it was all some giant detergent conspiracy and - well - it was good.” 

“Good, I’m glad it was good.” 

Lorelai rotated the cup in her hands. “She told me you were the one who persuaded her to let you give me her new phone number.”

“Oh. I guess. Sort of.” Luke shrugged. “I’m sure she would have, eventually. I just - it would have felt weird if you didn’t have it - and I did.”

“Thank you.” Brushing hair behind her ear, Lorelai said, “I haven’t changed my mind about Yale and my parents and  _ Logan _ but I don’t much like the way I handled it either. I spent all these years, swearing up and down, that I’ll die before I become my mother and then...I wake up and I look in the mirror and I see Emily Gilmore, judgement queen, my way or the highway, screw actually listening to my daughter because I always, always know what’s best, staring back at me. It was not a pretty sight.”

“You’re not your mother.” Luke snorted and added, “I doubt your mother would ever admit she was wrong.”

“The universe would end first,” agreed Lorelai. 

They fell into another silence. They traded off aborted starts, lips opening with a half-syllable expressed before rethinking it and saying nothing further. 

Gathering her courage, Lorelai blurted, “Do you hate me?”

“What?” Luke jerked, twisting to face her. 

“I’d understand if you did,” she said softly, swallowing hard. She couldn’t look at him. 

He sighed and rested a hand on her knee, heavy and warm and real. 

“Lorelai.” He waited until she turned to him. “I don’t hate you. I might have wanted to, for a few seconds, once or twice over the past couple of weeks because I thought...I thought maybe it would make it hurt less. I couldn’t though. Don’t think I’m capable of hating you.”

“I’m sorry. I hate that I hurt you, and Rory. You may not, but I definitely hate the person I was in that moment. She was jealous and selfish and too blinded by her own stupid pride and anger to realize what she was doing.” 

“It’s not all your fault...I should have told you about Rory’s visits. But I liked having her there and I was afraid...”

“You were afraid I’d barge in and chase her away,” Lorelai finished when he trailed off. 

Leaning back against the railing and removing his hand, Luke confirmed it with a nod and a “Yeah.”

“Which is exactly what I tried to do.” 

“Yep.”

“So moral of the story, you suck a little and I suck like a black hole.” 

Luke blinked, contorted his face, and then, to Lorelai’s shock, laughed. It sounded shaky, a release of tension as much as anything, yet was genuine. 

“Okay…” Bewildered, Lorelai watched him chortle. 

When his laughter subsided, Luke patted her knee. With the hint of smirk, he stated, “Dirty.”

“Oh my God.” Groaning, Lorelai whacked his shoulder. “Lucas Williams Danes, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“You said it,” he retorted. 

“Well, I didn’t mean it like that!” she protested. 

“Never stopped you.” 

“Still!” 

Luke’s merriment faded into quiet contemplation, his eyes on her. Despite the porchlight, which had flickered on due to the deepening twilight, Lorelai couldn’t decipher what he was thinking based on his expression. 

Finally, he asked, “Where do we go from here?”

“I feel like I should be the one asking you that.  _ I _ broke us up.  _ I _ took off the ring.  _ I _ left you.” Bending one leg, Lorelai wrapped an arm about her knee. “Seems like you’re the one taking the risk on me. Again.”

“Lorelai, I don’t play games,” Luke replied firmly. “If I wasn’t willing to take another chance on this - if I didn’t still want for there to be an us - I wouldn’t be here.”

“Oh.”

“There’s a part of me that wants to pretend none of this ever happened. Have us pick up right where we were.” Luke shook his head. “But...the rest of me knows that would be a bad idea. We obviously weren’t ready to be engaged, let alone married. Obviously, there’s things we need to sort out.”

“But...you still want to marry me?” Her words trembled, wobbly as the first steps of a newborn foal. “Someday?”

“Yes.” Leaning forwards, Luke spoke in a low rumble. “You’re ‘it’ for me, Lorelai, do you understand that? ‘It’ forever, not for the next month or year or ten years, forever. Took me long enough to get it through my thick skull - and god, even then, we kept missing each other, never the right time, watching you with Max and Christopher and Jason, and me with Rachel and Nicole - but this, us -” 

He waved at them both, voice rising, “- You and me, this is my happily ever after like in those ridiculous movies you made me watch with the talking animals and the fairies and the constant need to burst into song - what is with that? - I’m not Prince Charming, I don’t own a castle or ride a white horse, I like my flannel and my truck, I’m not easy to get along with, I’ll never want to dash off to New York or Paris or Timbuktu, but goddamit Lorelai, I love you.  _ I love you _ . All of you, even when you make mistakes. And unless you tell me to leave, I’m not giving up on us. If this relationship takes work, so what? I’ve never been afraid of hard work, and I’ll be damned if I start now. As long as you’re willing -”

Tears streaking her cheeks, Lorelai collided with him, mashing her lips onto his. 

They kissed until oxygen deprivation forced them apart. Half-atop Luke, his legs and arms steadying her, Lorelai rested her forehead against his. 

“Yes, whatever it takes,” she vowed. “ _ Whatever _ it takes. I don’t care - self-help books, Oprah, couples therapy - you got an extra copy of that book Jess had lying around? Because I like your flannel and your truck too, I’ve been to castles and they’re cold and damp and stony and I never want to live in one again, because when she was eleven and you fixed our water heater, Rory asked if you were magic and I said yes and I was joking but I wasn’t - I don’t want Prince Charming, I want you. You’ve always been our knight in shining plaid, our Luke, and I never let myself think that you could be my Luke because that was asking for too much. Being greedy.”

Pausing for breath, she traced the lines of his brow, his eyes, and his mouth. “I told myself I didn’t need anyone besides Rory. But I was wrong, I need you. I love you. More, more than I thought I could love anyone except for Rory. If you’re offering forever, forever is what I want. I want to be a gazillion years old, drinking coffee, and listening to you tell me how it’s eroding my insides. I want to watch you watch movies, I want to drive Taylor batty with you, I want a hundred thousand kisses across the counter with you - all of it, every single moment, you and me, I want to be an ‘us.’ I screwed up, like I always do, and I’m going to make more mistakes, but god Luke, if you let me, I’ll fight for us, fight whatever I have to - my parents, my stupid insecurities, my bad habits - because this - you and me - is my happily-ever-after too.”

Luke’s kiss was considerably gentler than Lorelai’s but packed with the same intensity. Afterwards, he rearranged them, guiding Lorelai to sit on a lower step between his legs. She turned sideways, tucking her legs under one of his, and leaned against his chest. When he settled his arms around her, she pressed her face into his shirt and inhaled deeply. 

“We’ll figure this out,” he said softly into her hair. “We’re not okay, Lorelai. Not yet.”

“But we will be,’” she said, equally soft.  

“We will be.”

Twilight had slid into night before Luke shifted, loosening his embrace. “I should go.”

“I don’t want you to.” 

“I don’t really want to go either, but I should.” 

Lorelai knew he was right. Although she would have liked to persuade him to stay, just to sleep, she sensed his wounds were still too raw for that to be a good idea. It would do more harm than good. 

They disentangled themselves, stretching muscles that had grown sore without either noticing until now. They descended the steps. 

With a tentative smile, Lorelai suggested, “The Black-White-Read’s playing  _ The Return of the Jedi _ this week. Maybe we could go?”

“Wednesday? I can get Cesar and Lane to close.” 

“Wednesday. I’ll meet you at the diner?”

“I’ll be there.” Luke dug a miniature flashlight from his pocket. “Goodnight, Lorelai.”

“Goodnight. Walk carefully and watch out for Kirks.”

“I will.” He thumbed the flashlight on and started back towards town. Lorelai stayed outside until the bobbing light disappeared. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Stop that.” Luke reached over the counter and covered Rory’s hands. “You’re hurting yourself.”

Rory moved her hands apart; she’d been picking at her cuticles until they were red. 

“I’m nervous. It’s my mom, I’m not supposed to be nervous,” she said. 

“She’s nervous too,” Luke replied. Indicating a table with his chin, he suggested, “Why don’t you go sit down? That way you’re not yanking your head around to look out the window every five seconds. I’ll bring you a fresh cup.”

Obeying, Rory selected a seat which allowed her to watch the street and door. 

A minute later, she leapt to her feet as Lorelai’s entrance rang the bell. “Mom! Hi!”

“Hi, sweetie!” 

After a bit of confused bumpings, they hugged. Lorelai joked, “Wow, we should work on that.”

“We should.” 

They sat and Luke brought Lorelai coffee. He asked, “Cheeseburger?”

“With onion rings, please.” Leaning on her palm, Lorelai fluttered her eyelashes at him. 

Luke made his you’re-being-ridiculous-Lorelai face. “One heart attack on a plate, coming up. Rory?”

“Chili fries?”

“Medical miracles, the two of you.” With a roll of his eyes, he stalked back to the kitchen. Rory smiled at her mother. 

“So things are getting back to normal?” she asked. 

“Slowly. We’re working on it,” Lorelai admitted. “We’ve gone to a couple of movies, dinner once, went to this open-air art festival last weekend that was fun but which I didn’t think was a Luke-thing but there was a glassblowing demonstration and he liked that.”

“He likes the craftsmanship of it,” Rory said with a little satisfied bob of her head. “I’m glad you liked it too.”

Lorelai eyed her daughter. “Did you tell him about the art fair?”

“Yes? One of the other volunteers at the Institute mentioned it, and I thought it was outside and there would be lots of pretty sparkly things, and lots of things to mock so…” Rory shrugged. “I printed off the flyer and gave it to Luke last week.”

“You are so Parent Trapping us.” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Scuffing a foot, Rory frowned. “Which is fair because it was kinda my fault in the first place.”

“Oh honey, no. That was all me, well maybe a pinch Luke. Besides, me and Luke, we’re going to be okay.”

“I hope so.” Glancing towards the kitchen to ensure Luke was still inside, Rory said, “He was really sad. He wouldn’t say it - wouldn’t say anything bad about you at all - but I could tell he was hurting. It made me mad at you.”

“I was - am - mad at myself,” admitted Lorelai. “I promise, I’ll take much better care of him from now on.”

“Good, because you know he’s a softie. Hard, grouchy outer shell with a very gooey center.”

“Absolutely.” Lorelai squeezed Rory’s hand. “I think I forget sometimes that he’s not Superman. He’s always been the person I could count on most, no matter what, always there to fix things or just to be there even if it’s something he can’t fix. I take him for granted. I’m trying to be better about that too.”

“Me too.” 

“He adores you, kid.”

“I know.” Rory threw a smile in the kitchen’s direction, then changed the subject. “So how did the engagement party go Friday?”

“Pretty well. The bride loved the decorations, and nobody ended up throwing up in the flowerpots. Plus, the groom’s mother booked a getaway weekend for her and her husband for November.”

“Nice,” exclaimed Rory. 

The two chatted for an hour, eating their way through their original orders, two slices of apple pie, and half a dozen cups of coffee. They stayed away from any inflammatory subjects like Yale or Logan, but Rory talked about the latest immigration case she was working on and Lorelai shared stories of the town and inn.  

“Brrrring, brrrring!” Scrambling for her phone, Rory mashed the button to mute the alarm. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. I need to be back in Hartford by three-thirty, tutoring at the Boys and Girls Club.”

“That’s okay, I understand. Drive safely, okay?” Lorelai said as they both stood. 

“I will. I’ll call you, maybe do a movie this weekend?” 

“Sounds good. Just let me know when,” replied Lorelai. 

“Cool.” Rory slung her purse onto her shoulder before hugging her mom. She darted over to the cash register, waited for Luke to finish ringing up Mrs. Doran, and hugged him too. “Bye, Luke.”

“Bye, Rory.”

Once outside the diner, Rory paused and looked back. Her mother had migrated to the counter and, judging from the gesticulations, had launched into the banjo story. Luke had obligingly stopped to listen, the slightest uptick to the right corner of his mouth.

Smiling, she continued to her car and drove off. 

* * *

Luke slid the leftover weatherstripping into his truck bed. He’d spent the previous hour locating drafts and fixing them at the Gilmore house in preparation for the winter. The leaves were beginning to turn, and a light jacket was a necessity in the evenings.

As he walked back towards the house, Lorelai exited it with two opened beers dangling from one hand. She extended one to him. Accepting it, he settled on the topmost porch step, letting his feet rest two steps below. Lorelai sat beside him. 

“Thanks for doing this,” she said. “Cool trick with the candle.”

“My Dad taught me it,” Luke said, taking a sip. “There’s fancy gadgets you can buy to find the drafts, but a candle works just as well.”

“And doesn’t cost a fortune.”

“Yeah. You fed Paul Anka?”

“Mhm. He’s chowing down. He doesn’t like clowns by the way. There was one on TV today; he hid in the closet.”

“At least that’s a reasonable fear. Whoever thought clowns were entertaining for children must've been insane,” Luke said. 

“I know. They’re like something out of a nightmare,” Lorelai agreed. “One of my friends’ parents hired one for her seventh birthday party. I couldn’t go to bed without a light on for a month.”

“Kirk tried to be a clown.”

“No!” gasped Lorelai. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Must’ve been about twelve, no thirteen years ago.”

“What happened?”

“Jeremy Proctor got scared and kicked him in the - ah - private parts.”

Laughing, Lorelai managed, “Well good for Jeremy Proctor. The last thing we need is Kirk running around in makeup and big red shoes.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Luke raised his bottle and Lorelai clinked hers against it. 

“Me too.”

Luke finished his beer while Lorelai picked at the label on hers. She tore off strips and flakes until the logo was obliterated. His brow furrowed in worry. 

“Luke, could I ask you something?” 

He took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“Promise you won’t storm off?” she peeped at him through a curtain of loose curls. 

“I won’t storm off.”

“Okay…” She blew out a breath. “Why didn’t you come after me? After...upstairs?” In a rush, she continued, “I’m not blaming you or anything. It’s just - I - you called but - you didn’t come over, you didn’t -”

“Didn’t show up at your inn and refuse to leave?” Luke rumbled. 

“Not - well - not exactly - maybe a little -”

“I’m not that guy, Lorelai. Even if I wanted - even if I thought you were making a mistake - I - what was I supposed to do? Ignore what you said? Ignore what you did?” Luke stared at his truck, gripping the neck of his bottle tightly in his right hand with the other balled on this thigh. “You made it pretty clear you didn’t want anything to do with me. I had to - I had to respect that - even if it killed me.”

“Luke…”

“Look, I know you’re used to people - men - pursuing you. Jason, Christopher, probably others over the years that I don’t know about. You’re the type of woman any man would want; I know that. I get what would drive them to keep trying even without any sort of encouragement.” He shifted to face her. “But I meant what I said, I don’t play games. Not like that. If you say or act like you don’t want me, want this, then I’m going to honor that. And maybe...maybe I didn’t want to give you a second chance.”

“A second chance to what?” asked Lorelai in a strangled voice. 

“A second chance to slam the door in my face. I...I didn’t know if I could handle it,” Luke admitted slowly. 

Lorelai gently pried his fingers from the bottle and set it aside. She drew his hand towards her, sandwiching it between her own. 

“Thank you for telling me.” Turning his hand over, she traced his life line. “I’m learning, Luke. This isn’t like any relationship I’ve ever had. You’re not like any other guy I’ve ever been with.”

“I’m not good at talking about these things,” Luke said. “I never, with this touchy-feely stuff, but if there’s something you want to know, ask me. I’ll try to answer.”

With a self-deprecating expression, he added, “It might come out wrong but I’ll try.”

“Ditto,” replied Lorelai. She curled her fingers, Luke curling his in response so their hands fit like two C’s interlocked with their knuckles on each other’s palm. Using that link for leverage, Lorelai pulled him in and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Can you stay for a little longer? I’m not sure we got all the drafts, especially in the bedroom. We should check, don’t you think?”

“Makes sense.” 

Not letting go, Lorelai climbed to her feet and Luke followed suit. Tethered together, they went inside. 

* * *

“Hey, baby-doll!” shouted Babette. Momentarily grimacing, Lorelai forced a bright smile and waited for Babette to catch up to her on the porch.

“Hi, Babette, what’s up?” she asked. She hunted through her purse, shoving aside crap and cursing under breath. “Where are my stupid keys?”

“You okay, sweetie? You look kind of frazzled,” Babette asked. “I just wanted to borrow a pair of scissors. Mine always seem to poof into thin air. I can come back later -”

“No, no, it’s fine. Come in. Finally!” Lorelai produced her keys, flicking through until she found the right one, and jammed it into the door. With a yank, she unlocked the door and swung it wide. “I swear, if I didn’t hear Luke’s voice nattering at me about safety, I’d leave the damn thing unlocked the way I used to. He’s inside my head now.”

With a knowing chuckle, Babette stepped inside after Lorelai. “He’s just worried about you. Having a bit of a tiff?”

“We’re fine, it’s just - he said some things yesterday after dinner. About us. How we’re both used to making decisions on our own - me with Paul Anka, him with that house, how I didn’t even think about what it would mean for us if I took that job with the Durham Group. We’re trying to get better at actually discussing these sorts of things but urgh!” Lorelai flung her purse onto the phone table. “Sometimes it’s so frustrating. He’s so frustrating.”

“Better in the long run,” Babette told her with an emphatic thumbs-up. “Morey and me, we had some huge blowups when we were starting out. You got to. It’s like when you’re sick and you’ve got all that nasty gunk in your chest - you’ve got to cough it all up, get it all out. Otherwise, it just sits there and you can’t breathe right.” 

“I guess.”

Babette caught Lorelai’s arm. With far more seriousness than usual, she said, “Trust me, sweetheart. You need to know where each other stands, what you’re willing to compromise on and what you’re not. You figure that out, and you love each other even if you get the occasional urge to put itching powder in his pants and you’ll be good.” 

With the image of Luke scratching madly in her mind, Lorelai broke into a real smile. She asked, “What’s it like, being married to someone for so long?”

“It’s...umm...pineapple and mountain mist.” 

Scrunching her forehead, Lorelai asked, “What?”

“Every time he goes shopping, and there’s a decent batch of pineapple, Morey buys me some even though he hates pineapple. Has to go into the other room when I eat it,” Babette explained. “I like lavender but I get the laundry detergent that smells like mountain mist instead of lavender because Morey says it reminds him of the old country.”

“Compromise,” repeated Lorelai, recalling Babette’s earlier words. 

“Exact-a-mundo.”

“Let me get your scissors.” Stepping into the kitchen, Lorelai located a pair in the second junk drawer. She returned and handed them to Babette. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. I’ll bring’em back tomorrow.” 

“No rush.” She saw Babette to the door and halfway across the yard. 

Thoughtfully, Lorelai said, “Pineapple and mountain mist. The secret to a happy marriage, who knew?” 

After a moment, she nodded to herself and hastened upstairs to change. If she hurried, she could swing by the diner before meeting Rory in Hartford for dinner. 

* * *

“If this wasn’t for Rory, I’d say we turn around and go home,” Luke remarked as they approached the Gilmore mansion. “Can’t say I’m delighted with the idea of setting foot inside this place again.”

“Welcome to my world,” replied Lorelai. Arm linked with his, she pressed close for reassurance, both his and hers. “At least there should be fifty or sixty people to hide behind and you’re plenty strong enough to shimmy down the west-side tree if we have to make our escape.”

“I wish you were joking.” 

“Afraid not. Although, I hope the tree isn’t necessary, would be a shame to ruin that suit,” she said with a playful little tug on his tie. “You look yummy.”

“You look beautiful.” 

Lorelai blushed at his words; somehow, Luke’s plainspoken appreciation always surpassed the flowery and flirtatious compliments she’d received her entire adult life. 

“Thank you, I think we make quite the handsome pair. Matching but not matchy-matchy.” She’d chosen her navy dress, sprinkled with silver, on purpose to complement his black suit with its slate grey shirt and tie. “Once more unto the breach?”

“Shields up,” Luke added under his breath as he pressed the buzzer. 

A maid answered and ushered them into a house bustling with men in fine suits and ladies in elegant dresses. Waiters mingled with trays of tidbits and alcohol. Lorelai added the sparkly rainbow-wrapped gift she’d been carrying to the mountain in the living room before they proceeded deeper into the house. 

“Mom! Luke!” Breaking away from a group of people, Rory darted to them. “You’re here!”

“Of course, we’re here. It’s your 21st birthday. We wouldn’t miss it,” Lorelai said as they hugged. It wasn’t what they had once planned, but she’d been happy and relieved when Rory had called - before the invitation had even arrived - to ask them to come. “Happy Birthday, loin fruit.”

“Happy Birthday, Rory,” echoed Luke. Rory hugged him as well. 

“Thanks, I’m really glad you’re here. There’s lots of food and drink, but don’t drink The Rory,” she warned them. “Well, you might like it, Mom, but it tastes like liquid sugar.”

“The Rory?” asked Luke, “What’s that?”

Rory pointed at the martini glasses on a nearby server’s tray. “That’s The Rory. Grandma had the bartender make it; it’s supposed to be my signature drink.”

“It’s very...pink.” 

“Yes, yes it is,” replied Rory with a suppressed laugh. Lorelai went ahead and giggled at Luke’s dry comment. Sounding regretful, Rory said, “I have to mingle. Cake cutting is in an hour, in the dining room.”

“I know where I’m staking out territory then,” Lorelai said. “Go mingle, honey, enjoy your party. Luke and I will entertain ourselves.” She appended a slow wink to the end of the sentence. 

“Lorelai!” protested Luke, flushing. 

“You make it too easy,” Rory informed him. “You’ve got to work on that.” With a sympathetic pat to his arm, she sallied off. 

To Lorelai’s surprise, she rather enjoyed the party. Suspecting that Rory had wrestled control of the guest list from her mother, the attendees were more varied than she would have expected: Lane and her boyfriend, Paris and Doyle, Marty the Naked Guy, a half dozen or so other Yale friends, members of the D.A.R., a smattering of people from Immigration International, Michel, and Sookie. 

There were another thirty guests Emily had undoubtedly insisted upon, but the Luke and Lorelai limited themselves to exchanging polite hellos with them. They avoided her parents, ducking out of rooms or going outside as needed. 

Cake devoured, Rory dove into her mountain of presents. Ranging from CDs from Lane to coupons for cookies from Sookie to first editions from her grandparents to gift cards from Emily’s invitees, she stacked the presents around her. Emily sat beside her, recording each present and the giver. 

When Rory reached her mother’s, Lorelai slid her hand into Luke’s and held on tightly. She whispered, “I hope she likes it.” 

“She will,” Luke murmured back. 

Rory peeled the rainbow paper from a white box. She wondered aloud, “Oooo, is it clothes?” She shook it once to a muffled thud. “Doesn’t sound like clothes.”

Slitting the tape on each side with a letter opener, Rory lifted off the lid. 

_ “The Life and Times of Rory Gilmore” _ read gilded letters on a leather bound album. The cover creaked as Rory opened it. 

“Mom…” she gasped, quickly flipping through pages filled with pictures, “This is amazing. How did you get all of these?” 

“I had a lot of them, and I asked around Stars Hollow for the rest,” answered Lorelai. 

Returning to the beginning, Rory turned the pages slower. “There’s us with Mia, my first day of kindergarten, me and Lane on pajama day, oh god that time Sookie tried to teach me how to bake bread, look at Michel’s face in this one, he looks like he swallowed a lemon, my very first sip of coffee, at Luke’s of course, you and me painting my room -”

“Ahem,” Emily cleared her throat. 

“Oh, sorry,” Rory said. She closed the album. “Mom, this is the best. I promise I’ll look through it more later. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Lorelai relaxed against Luke who squeezed her hand. 

“What’d I tell you?” he whispered into her ear. “Nothing to worry about.”

Too happy to argue, she merely slung an arm about his waist. 

After presents finished, people began departing in twos and threes. Lorelai and Luke lingered, Lorelai munching on a second helping of cake.

“Lorelai Gilmore?” An olive-skinned woman approached the couple, her jade suit accented with a gold spiral pendant. Lorelai guessed her to be around forty. She extended a hand. “I’m Laura Easley. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” 

“Laura Easley, you work at Immigration International right?” said Lorelai, shaking the woman’s hand.

“Volunteer, my day job is at Steinberg and Hayward,” Laura clarified. “I specialize in estate law which is why I’m late. Some of my clients are...how shall I put this delicately...accustomed to on-demand service.”

“Oh boy, do I understand that. You’ve met my parents right?”

“I have,” replied Laura with a knowing twinkle. Turning slightly to Luke, she asked, “And you must be Luke Danes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Luke. They shook hands as well. 

“Call me Laura, please. Rory’s a wonderful volunteer; I wish I had a dozen like her,” Laura said. “I know she’s been struggling a bit recently, but she’s been a great help with our cases.”

“She seems to be enjoying it,” said Lorelai. 

“She’s told me so much about you. I admit that, apart from wishing Rory a Happy Birthday, I wanted to meet the woman who raised her. She’s very proud of you, you know. Everything you’ve accomplished - working your way up to manager of the Independence Inn, owning your own house, getting your degree, opening and running your own successful business.” 

Lorelai blinked back tears. “Wow...I...I don’t know what to say…” She gestured at Luke. “And he can tell you how rare that is.”

“Once in a blue moon,” he supplied, rubbing circles into the small of her back. “It’s normally getting her to be quiet that’s the problem.”

“Traitor,” Lorelai muttered at him. Playfully, she attempted to tread on his toes. He sidestepped and, when he looked at her, Lorelai saw nothing other than affection and pride in his expression. She tucked herself against his side again.

When their attention refocused on Laura, the lawyer smiled and declared, “She was right about the two of you as well. You are adorable.” 

“Thank you,” said Lorelai as Luke didn’t seem to know how to take being called ‘adorable.’ “Our goal is to induce cavities in one and all.”

“I’ll be making an appointment with my dentist tomorrow,” rejoined Laura. “While I’d love to get to know you better, I’m afraid I do have to get home. Would you mind if I dropped by your inn sometime? Rory gave me a copy of the magazine it was featured in, and it looks beautiful. I’d love to see it.”

“Sure, I’d like that.” 

“Wonderful. Goodnight.” 

She departed, and Lorelai cocked her head. She admitted, “I think I like her.”

“That’s good.”

“She’s not very lawyer-y.”

“Lawyer-y?”

“It’s a word,” insisted Lorelai, flicking a strand of hair out of her face. 

“Uh-uh.” 

“Lorelai, there you are,” came her father’s voice. Richard neared and asked, “I was wondering if I could have a word? In my office?”

The couple exchanged looks. With marked hesitation, Lorelai replied, “Why?”

“It’s nothing serious,” Richard assured her. “I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about the inn. For your insurance policy?”

“If that’s all…”

“That’s all.”

“Okay, then.” 

Richard walked towards the office. To Luke, Lorelai whispered, “If I’m not back in ten -”

“ - I’ll send in the cavalry.”

“Bless you.” She followed her father. 

Luke wandered into the parlor where Rory sat with Lane, Zach, and Logan with the album in her lap. When she noticed him, she passed the album to Lane and went to him. 

“Where’s Mom?” 

Jerking his thumb in the general direction of the office, Luke said, “Your grandfather had some questions about the inn’s insurance policy.”

“Okay, good, one step at time, oh - there’s something I want to show you.” Taking his arm, Rory dragged him through the house to the doors leading to the patio. “Wait here, I’ll just go grab it from the pool house.”

She returned with a day planner. Flipping it to the bookmarked page, she showed him a big red “X” on the following Friday. “I’ll be done. Three hundred and two hours, thirty minutes, next week.”

“Congratulations,” he said warmly. “I knew you could do it.”

Rory hugged the day planner to her chest. “It doesn’t make everything magically right, but I’m going to be so happy to be done with it.”

“You’re going to continue volunteering, aren’t you?” he asked. 

“With Immigration International and with the Boys and Girls Club,” she replied. “I have the time and, I think, I think it’s helping me. The people I help, their problems make mine seem a lot less scary. I figure if they can make it, without all the benefits I have, then I can make it too.”

“You can. You will.” 

“Did you meet Laura? She dropped by.”

“Yes, she introduced herself to me and your mom. Seems like a nice lady.”

“She is.”

Luke pulled a rectangular jewelry case from his jacket pocket. He gave it to Rory, saying, “Your mom put both our names on the album, but she did most of the work on it and I wanted you to have something from me.”

Rory opened the case. She ran her fingers over the string of pearls. She whispered, “Luke...”

“It was my mother’s. Liz, her neck is kind of fat, and it wouldn’t - ” babbled Luke, and gestured at her neck. “Your neck isn’t fat at all.” 

Standing on tiptoe, Rory kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” She lifted the necklace from its cushion and held it out to Luke. “Would you put it on me?”

“Oh, sure.” 

Rory turned and he fastened the necklace around her neck. She immediately went over to a nearby mirror, adjusting the pearls. Against the black lace of her dress, they glowed softly. 

“It’s beautiful. I love it.”

“Good.” 

Rory opened her mouth to say more, but was interrupted by Emily’s entrance. The senior Gilmore demanded imperiously, “Rory, your guests are leaving. Come say goodbye.”

“Coming.” With a final smile thrown Luke’s way, Rory obeyed. From their position, he watched Rory join Lane, Zach, and Logan by the front door, then saw her walk them outside. 

“She refused to invite her father, did you know that?” demanded Emily. “Her own father.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“She’s meeting him in three days, for lunch, after I told her she had to.” Emily’s eyes flashed as she glared at Luke. “But she invited you. Insisted on inviting you.” 

“I’m glad she did.” Settling into his stance, Luke gripped his temper in an iron fist. From Emily’s demeanor, she was just getting started and he had no intention of allowing her the satisfaction of making him lose his temper, especially considering it was Rory’s birthday party.

“Despite that, you’ll never replace her father, you know,” Emily stated bluntly. “You can’t offer her - or my daughter - what Christopher can. No matter how good your coffee is.”

“And what exactly would that be?” Luke asked in a deliberately bland manner.

“A family - he would have married Lorelai - at more than one point, if she could have seen past her foolish pride and willfulness, they could have been a real family, the three of them. But of course my daughter must have her way, and look how that’s turned out,” Emily sneered. “If you had any sense at all, you’d see how much better off my daughter and granddaughter would be with him. If you truly cared for them -”

“I’d keep Christopher far, far away from them,” Luke interrupted. “The only reason I haven’t knocked him into next week is because Rory - who is a far kinder and more forgiving person than I am - wouldn’t like it. She still seems willing to give him a chance to prove he gives a damn about her. I’m pretty sure Lorelai wouldn’t object at this point.”

“Excuse you -”

“I get that you wanted Lorelai to marry him when she got pregnant. Hell, twenty years ago, I might have even agreed with you.” Luke relished the gaping astonishment on Emily’s face.“You get pregnant, you get married. That’s the right thing to do. It’s what my sister did when she got pregnant with Jess and she was only a couple of years older than Lorelai.”

“Except then the son of a bitch bolted before Jess even came home from the hospital. And if that weren’t bad enough, he left debts which my sister was now responsible for and after he left, he opened credit cards in her name and put her even more in debt. It took her two years to break free from that lowlife, mostly because we had to keep tracking him down every couple of months since he could never manage to hold down a steady job or permanent address.” Rocking back on his heels, Luke crossed his arms. “And even after that, he’d still show up every once in awhile, sweet-talking Liz, - never to spend any time with his son of course - and when he’d leave, her TV or her stereo would be gone.”

“You can’t compare -”

“I’m not done.” Emily’s jaw dropped further. Luke continued relentlessly, “Looking back, Liz would have done a lot better  _ not _ to marry the idiot. And from what I can tell, the only differences between Jess’ father and Rory’s is that Rory’s father’s parents had the money to bail him out whenever he got into trouble and he sometimes, sometimes remembered to call. A ring and a couple of I-do’s don’t make a man a good father or a good husband. If you ask me, Lorelai had the wisdom to recognize that fact and the courage to stand up to you - and your husband - and to do the right thing for herself and for Rory.”  

“You’ve made it very clear what you think of me. I’m never going to be able to win your approval. That would have bothered me a few months ago because I was raised to believe that I should want the parents of the woman I love to approve of me. I also didn’t want to be one more brick in the wall between you and Lorelai, one more weapon you could use to hurt her, one more example of her ‘bad judgement.’” Luke fairly growled the last two words. He shook his head once. “If your approval counts how blue someone’s blood is and how many zeros he has in his bank account above how he treats your daughter - and your granddaughter - then your approval is worthless and I’m not going to keep trying to earn it.”

“How dare you?” exclaimed Emily. “Christopher isn’t a saint, but he is a decent man from a good family.”

“Then why did it take him sixteen years to visit his daughter in her town? Why wasn’t he at her birthdays or high school graduation? Why didn’t he send a single penny of child support when Lorelai took every shift she could to pay the bills? Why didn’t he help pay for Chilton or Yale?” Luke demanded. When Emily had no answer, he snorted and said, “I’ve watched him waltz into their lives and waltz out, and every time, he’s hurt them. You think I’m nothing like that man, good. I love Lorelai, and I love Rory, and I hope to God I never fail them the way he has. I’m going to do everything in my power to be sure I don’t. I suggest you get used to me being around. You don’t like me, I don’t like you, but unlike you, I’m willing to try to be civil for Lorelai’s and Rory’s sakes.” 

Throughout the whole of his tirade, Luke never raised his voice which only increased the penetration of his words.  

Anger reddening her cheeks, Emily Gilmore’s facial muscles spasmed as she attempted to formulate a reply. 

“And that means you stop insulting Luke, Mom. In any way.” Making them both start, Lorelai came around the corner and strode to Luke. She linked arms with him. “I’m not expecting miracles, but the basic courtesy you’re so fond of saying I lack isn’t too much to expect, now is it?”

“Lorelai -”

“I heard everything.” Lorelai felt an odd sense of calm, holding her head high and her voice firm. “I love Luke, Luke loves me, and we’re happy. Luke makes me happy. He accepts me for who I am - which you never have - he takes care of me, he encourages me - and I refuse to stand by and let you insult him. That goes for Dad, too by the way. You don’t have to like him, but you at least have to be polite. Am I understood?”

“Crystal,” bit out Emily. 

“I’m glad we understand each other.” They heard the front door open. Glancing that way, they witnessed Rory returning inside. 

She spied them and trotted down the length of the house to them. She called, “Sorry I took so long.”

From her daughter’s smudged lipstick and slightly mussed hair, Lorelai guessed the majority of the time had been spent saying a thorough goodbye to Logan. 

“Not a problem, sweets, but Luke and I should get going,” Lorelai said, as Emily quickly slapped on a neutral expression and Luke visibly relaxed. 

“Okay, I’ll walk you out.” 

“Bye, Mom.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Gilmore.” 

Once outside, Rory asked, “Is something wrong? The vibe in there…”

“The usual,” Lorelai replied with a grimace. She flicked her hair over her shoulders before hugging Rory. “Other than that, pretty cool party.”

“Really?” asked Rory, not breaking their embrace. “I know it’s not what we planned…”

“Plans change,” said Lorelai. The two separated. “It’s okay.”

“I love the album. And the pearls,” Rory said, touching the necklace. “I’m really glad you both came.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Lorelai assured her. 

“Same here,” said Luke. “Goodnight, Rory.”

“Goodnight, Luke. Night, Mom.” 

“Goodnight, birthday girl,” said Lorelai. 

With Luke holding the door, she climbed into the truck. While Luke got in, she made faces at Rory who returned the favor with antlers and bulging eyes. The truck thrummed into life; the two women waved as it pulled out of the driveway.  


	6. Chapter 6

Rory zipped her boots before tugging her dark-washed jeans over them. Standing, she checked her outfit in the mirror - pink blouse under a snowflake sweater with the jeans - and smoothed on a lipgloss. She shrugged on her scarlet coat, slung her purse onto her shoulder, and picked up a blue gift bag.  

Walking towards the garage, she stopped by the study. Richard smiled at his granddaughter and asked, “You look nice. You’re going out? Meeting Logan?”

“Thank you, yes, and no,” Rory answered in order. “I’m going to Stars Hollow.”

“Oh?”

“It’s Luke’s birthday and Mom’s throwing him a surprise party at the Dragonfly. A small party, because it’s Luke and he hates a fuss so definitely small.” She gestured at her clothes. “Also casual which is why the jeans.”

“I see.”

“I might be back late so if Grandma gets back before I do, and you two go to bed, tell her I said ‘Goodnight’ please.”

“I will. Have a nice time.”

* * *

Hands tucked under her armpits, Rory hustled up the Dragonfly’s steps and into the warmth. Seeing no one at the desk, she called, “Mom?”

“Rory!” exclaimed a familiar voice.

“Mia! Oh my God!” Rory embraced the older woman who had emerged from the dining room. “You’re here!”

“Lorelai asked me to come for Lucas’ birthday. I thought it was a splendid idea, and I would get to see you and your mother and the Dragonfly to boot,” Mia gushed, a flutter of her hand encompassing the whole inn. “It’s a beautiful place, your mother has outdone herself.”

“Yes, she has,” agreed Rory. “When did you get in? Have you gotten the grand tour?”

“Arrived last night, and I have.” Conspiratorially, Mia lowered her voice and asked, “So Lucas and your mother, what do you think?”

“It’s wonderful.”

“Me too. I keep kicking myself for not introducing them earlier.”

With a sage nod of her head, Rory said, “Maybe it had to happen at the right time in the right way.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Mia said with a laugh.

“Rory!” Lorelai click-clacked into the reception area, her hair loose and a ruby wrap dress highlighting her curves. She brandished a handful of plaid napkins.“Aren’t these great? And look, Mia!”

“Perfect, and I totally did not see Mia. I was just talking to the ether,” Rory replied with a hint of archness.

Lorelai rolled her eyes. “Come on, almost everyone’s here.”

Mia and Rory followed Lorelai into the dining room. Three of the tables had been pushed together, a fourth served as a sideboard for drinks and presents, and the rest had been removed. Rory noted the paucity of decorations: colorful tablecloths, a few green and blue streamers, and a single ‘Happy Birthday’ banner.

“Understated, I like it,” she said to her mother. 

“Exactly, less is more. I’ll put your gift on the table.” Lorelai peeled off with the present and Rory was promptly hailed by TJ.

“Hey, there’s the smartie. What do ya know about feng shui?” called TJ, beckoning her over to him and Liz.

“Not much,” Rory answered. “I’m going to say hi to Lane.” She detoured speedily to the corner of the room containing Lane, Cesar, an unfamiliar Hispanic woman, and Harold, Luke’s other part-time server.

“Nice escape,” Lane congratulated her with a thumbs-up.

“Thanks. Hi, Harold. Hi, Cesar.” To the woman, Rory said tentatively, “Hello?”

“Rory, this is my wife Ariana. Ariana, this is Rory, Lorelai’s daughter,” Caesar introduced them.

“Hello, Rory. Cesar’s told me stories about you and your mother.” The same height as her husband, Ariana exuded an aura of warmth, wearing a soft orange sweater and brown skirt. “All good, I promise.” Her r’s rolled pleasantly off her tongue.

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you, finally. Cesar said he was married, but I was almost beginning to think he’d made you up.”

“Some days, _I_ think I made her up,” Cesar interjected.

“Darling.” Ariana patted her husband’s cheek. “You are a terrible flirt.”

Rory glanced at Lane who offered a who-knew shrug. Harold added, “Terrible is right. You should hear the lines he suggested when I wanted to ask Jocelyn out.”

“Hey, she said yes,” Cesar defended himself.

“After she stopped laughing,” said Harold.

“Jocelyn - is she the nurse at the elementary?” asked Rory.

“Started last year,” Harold confirmed.

With a tap to Rory’s shoulder, Lorelai interrupted, “Rory, can I borrow you for a sec?”

At Rory’s nod, Lorelai steered her to an older couple. Upon getting a good look, Rory decided that they would make a very passable Santa and Mrs. Claus around Christmastime with plenty of laugh lines on their faces and a friendly appearance.

“Rory, this is Maisy and Buddy. Maisy, Buddy, this is my daughter, Rory.”

The couple broke into wide smiles. Maisy said, “At last! I keep telling Luke he’s got to bring you by, but does the boy listen?”

Amused by her calling Luke ‘the boy’, Rory shook her hand then Buddy’s. “I’ll make him. I want to see Sniffy’s.”

“Use the Rory-eyes,” suggested Lorelai. “She can get him to do just about anything with those. Caterpillar funerals, double chocolate chip pancakes, building festival booths - you name it.”

“I learned from the best,” said Rory and nudged her mother. When Lorelai opened her mouth, Rory placed a finger on her lips. “Don’t be dirty. You do not need to go into your particular ways of convincing Luke. Or for what reasons.”

Lorelai pouted. “Fine.”

“I see Luke has his hands full with you,” Buddy said slyly.

“That he does,” Lorelai sing-songed to Rory’s groan.

“Mom, what did I just say?”

“Sorry.” She didn’t look one smidgen apologetic.

“How are you getting Luke here?” asked Maisy.

“Well, I told him I wanted to take him out to dinner. Wednesdays tend to be slow nights and Cesar had a mysterious other engagement so Luke was willing to close early but I told him I had things here late so it would be easier if he picked me up here,” Lorelai explained the plan. Consulting a wall clock, she added, “It’s fifteen to eight so he should be here soon. He’s always a minute or two early. Which means I need to go check with Sookie that everything’s going good in the kitchen.”

To Rory, she said, “Ask Buddy and Maisy what Luke was for Halloween when he was ten. Trust me, it’s good.”

Lorelai headed for the kitchen.

“He was a cowboy,” supplied Maisy.

“A cowboy?” squealed Rory, “With a hat and spurs and -”

“And a lasso and chaps,” Maisy finished.

“We have pictures,” said Buddy.

Maisy promised, “I’ll show them to you when you come to Sniffy’s.” Rory clapped her hands with glee.

“Jess!” Liz’s shriek drew their attention to the archway. In a blur of tasseled poet shirt, she crossed the dining room and flung her arms around her son. Clad in his habitual leather jacket, Jess tolerated his mother’s hug for a second before he squirmed and broke free.

“Hey, Mom. Hey, TJ.” Jess waved at the oncoming TJ to forestall any physical contact. To further prevent it, he adjusted the small duffle bag on his shoulder so it half-blocked him.

“Excuse me,” Rory said to Maisy and Buddy. She darted to Jess’ side and tugged on his sleeve. “Come on, let’s get you checked in.”

“Yes, let’s,” he answered readily. Towing him, she led him back into the reception area.

Once out of sight, she exclaimed, “You came!”

“Your mom invited me.” Jess kicked the bottom stair gently. “And you know, it’s Luke so I figured…”

“He’ll be happy you’re here,” Rory said. Glancing at the empty reception desk, she asked, “You are staying here tonight, right?”

If Jess came, that had been Rory’s suggestion so he wouldn’t have to drive back to Philadelphia at night. From Luke, Rory knew about his job there and Lorelai had copied his phone number off Luke’s fridge to call him for the party.

“Yep.”

“Then let’s get you officially checked in.” Scanning the desk, Rory located an envelope marked ‘Jess’. She untucked the flap and handed Jess the key inside. “Room 4. You have just enough time to throw your bag upstairs and come back down before Luke gets here.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Jess tossed her a salute before taking the stairs two at a time. Rory looked after him, biting her lip as she tried to work out combination of feelings she was experiencing. Her heart rate had picked up upon seeing him and she’d definitely felt something in her stomach but, considering the last time she’d seen him he’d asked her to run away with her, this interaction hadn’t produced any great upset.

Rory shook herself. Luke had said Jess seemed to be getting his act together. He’d passed his GED that spring along with finding a steady job and address.

She sighed and wondered at the irony of Jess - the troublemaker bad boy - being the more responsible of the two of the them at the moment. She’d screwed her life up at the same time Jess was straightening his out.

Boots thudding, Jess descended and they returned to the dining room. Her mother greeted Jess as she passed in the opposite direction. Lorelai slid the pocket doors shut, hiding the party, while she proceeded to the front desk.

A few minutes later, Rory dimly heard a “Luke” through the doors. Shushing each other, everyone arranged themselves in a haphazard line directly in front of the doors.

With a shove, the doors opened, thudding into their place.

“Surprise!”

Stunned, Luke looked from them to the excitedly beaming Lorelai at his side.

“Happy Birthday, doll,” she said. That cracked his shock and he stepped into the room.

Predictably, Liz rushed to be first to tell him “Happy Birthday,” accompanied by an over-enthusiastic hug that Luke bore gamely. The rest of the guests took turns wishing him “Happy Birthday,” Mia and Maisy both receiving genuine hugs.

Rory and Jess waited until the last. With a slap to Luke’s shoulder, Jess said, “Happy Birthday, old man.”

“And many more,” chimed in Rory.

“Thanks.” Luke stuck his hands in his pockets. “I take it this is why you were asking about my favorite foods?”

“Yep,” said Rory. “Sookie’s made all of them. Speaking of which…” She craned her neck, looking for her mom. “Mom! Where’s dinner?”

She caught Luke and Jess trying to conceal knowing smirks. She glared at them. Jess only smirked broader and said, “Nice to know some things never change.”

“It’s coming,” Lorelai said, walking to them. “Buddy and TJ just went to help Sookie and Jackson bring everything out.”

Within minutes, a feast ladened the tables. Fragrant steam rose from the rosemary lemon chicken, the homemade biscuits, and the spiced potatoes. Green beans and sweet corn glistened in their dishes. A spinach and strawberry salad tempted even Rory with its crispness and color. Pitchers of tea, water, and juice were interspersed throughout.

Guiding Luke to the head of the table, Lorelai announced, “Everyone, pick a seat and let’s eat.”

With a bustle, they sat. Lorelai claimed the spot to Luke’s right, Mia on his left. Rory sat next to her mother with Jess across the table and Lane beside her.

At first, they tried to be orderly, passing platters in a circle and waiting patiently for things. But that soon broke down and the table turned into a mass of people reaching over one another for the salt or the potatoes, calling for the homemade jam for their biscuit, and squabbling over who would get the chicken leg.

Conversations sparked, Rory often participating in two at once. The subjects ranged from baseball - a passion which Luke, Harold, and astonishingly Mia shared - to whether the Keira Knightley Pride & Prejudice would come close to equalling the Colin Firth version - Ariana, Rory, and Lorelai thinking no and Liz and Sookie yes - to the best time to plant tomatoes - Jackson discovered Buddy was an amateur gardener and was delighted.

People tipped back in their chairs to talk to those not seated next to them or planted elbows on the table as they spoke with someone diagonally across. Hands gesticulated, narrowly missing glasses and other people’s faces. Laughter boomed and twittered and pealed with the occasional snort and sputter as someone took a sip at an inopportune moment.

Her grandparents would have been appalled, Rory thought and felt a surge of pity. She remembered the D.A.R. events where one slip meant social suicide and every action was scrutinized. She remembered years of Friday night dinners with multiple forks and shining centerpieces but where words could be used to hurt and laughter was often employed to misdirect.

“Rory?” A boot nudged her foot. Head slightly cocked, Jess asked, “You okay?”

“I’m good, why do you ask?” she said with a reassuring smile.

“You had a weird look on your face.”

“Just thinking.” Rory pointed at the potatoes to his right. “Pass, please.”

He lifted the dish, holding it so she could scoop some into her plate. Obviously deciding to not to pry further, he asked, “Have you read _Break, Burn, Blow_?”

“I have, a little condescending don’t you think?”

Talking about books absorbed them until Lorelai tapped her glass with a knife. Standing, she declared, “Time for the best part: dessert and presents.”

Cheers answered her. To Rory and Jess, Lorelai requested, “Help me clear and with the cake?”

Between the three of them, they cleared the largest dishes and fetched the cake, along additional plates and forks and several canes of whipped cream.

Jess deposited the golden-brown cake, round with sliced apples layered on top, sprinkled with crushed walnuts, and redolent of cinnamon, in front of Luke. Rory set her stack of plates beside it, a triangular spatula on top. Lorelai hovered behind them with the whipped cream.

For a split-second, Rory could have sworn she saw tears in Luke’s eyes. Then he breathed deeply and smiled, one that illuminated his whole face.

“Thank you,” he said to the three of them. Looking down the table to Sookie, he added, “And to you too, Sookie.”

The chef waved his thanks off. “It was nothing.”

Luke picked up the spatula. Before he could cut, Lorelai interjected, “Picture!”

Passing the whipped cream cans to Rory, she retrieved a camera from the side table. Indulgently, Luke waited until she snapped a couple of photos and then started cutting pieces. Lorelai reclaimed the whipped cream from Rory. She distributed them, saying, “For those of us who like our dessert more desserty.”  

Filled plates circulated around the table until everyone had cake and the three helpers had reseated themselves. For a little while, the table quieted as the first pieces were devoured. The loudest noise came from the ‘whoosh’ of the spray cans and the tink of silverware.

When Lane finished hers, she rose. Collecting a gift bag, she handed it to Luke. “From Harold and me.” She picked up a second piece of cake from extras Luke had cut and returned to her seat.

Others followed her example; they couriered their gifts to Luke, often in exchange for another slice. He opened them as he received them.

Tins of loose leaf tea from Lane and Harold, tickets to the season opener of a local minor league baseball team from Cesar and Ariana with a promise of coverage, handknitted fingerless gloves from Mia, a Chop Magic from TJ that Luke visibly restrained himself from ranting about, and a dreamcatcher from Liz that Rory suspected would quickly wind up in her mom’s hands.

“Want me to get yours too?” asked Jess as Luke, with an admirably straight face, thanked his sister.

“It’s the blue one.”

He nodded and fetched it along with a rectangular box wrapped in plain green. He gave Luke the box first. “Here.”

Opening it, Luke eyed the two plaid shirts inside. When he looked expectantly at Jess, his nephew grinned cheekily, “Hey, I figured you could always use more uniform shirts. Can’t believe she -” he tipped his head at Loreali - “hasn’t improved your fashion sense.” He pointed at the white and blue plaid Luke was wearing.

“I manage to coax him into something nicer, occasionally. Now if I could only get him wear those tight jeans on a regular basis…” Lorelai said wistfully. She plucked at one of the shirts, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. Humming, she said, “Soft, I approve. These’ll be nice to wear.”

“Why - Oh God!” “Mom!” “Lorelai!”

Lorelai cackled at their discomfort.

In an effort to move along, Jess offered the bag to Luke. Rory exclaimed, “Wait!” and grabbed his hand.

When they turned to her, she demanded of her mom and Jess, “You can’t mock this. No mocking allowed. Absolutely none. Am I clear?”

“But mocking Luke is a highlight of my day!” protested Lorelai.

“Mom,” Rory growled.

“Fine, no mocking.” Lorelai lifted her right hand. “I promise.”

“Jess?”

“Pinkie swear,” he replied.

Rory released Jess’ hand. “You may proceed.”

Accepting the bag, Luke removed the top layer of tissue paper and three misshapen tissue-wrapped boxes with narrowed ends. He tore the tape and tissue on one, revealing pale blue with silver letters. Both Jess and Lorelai choked, Lorelai covering her mouth and Jess clamping his lips shut.

“Remember you promised,” Rory said. The two nodded.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” said Luke, his ears pinked and eyeing both his nephew and girlfriend apprehensively. He uncovered the yellow and red versions, each labeled with _Star Trek The Original Series_.

“Kind of hard to forget,” said Rory.

“Thank you, even if I am going to mocked at some point.” He pointed at Jess and Lorelai who failed in their attempted miens of innocence. “I don’t expect that promise to hold long.”

“Probably true,” agreed Rory.

Luckily for Jess’ and Lorelai’s promises, they were distracted by Sookie, Jackson, Maisy, and Buddy who came over with a variety of packages, all done in various plaids.

“This is sort of a collective gift,” explained Lorelai. “I had Sookie and Buddy help pick everything out.”

“We kept the receipts so if you don’t like anything, we can exchange it,” added Sookie. “I don’t know how particular you are, but I know I’m pretty picky so…” She gave him the first package.

When Luke finished unwrapping, he’d unveiled a mound of kitchen supplies: seven individually chosen knives with a honing steel, a set of nonstick pots and pans, a cast iron skillet, bamboo and plastic cutting boards, glass baking dishes, measuring cups, and mixing bowls. Luke checked the maker’s mark on a number of items and examined each of the knives.

“These are good quality, thank you,” he said to the group.

“I know you have your own stuff, but you take things back and forth between the diner and upstairs, and some of things you have look a bit worn, so I thought it might be nice to have some things that you can just leave at home that are new,” babbled Lorelai. “Or you can keep using the old ones if you like them, and these can be backups.”

“I like these just fine,” said Luke. “I’ll have to test the knives -” Sookie and Buddy nodded in understanding. “- but Buddy knows what I use so we should be good there.”

“Maybe you, Sookie, and this lug can cook for us sometime,” Maisy suggested with a thump to her husband’s arm on ‘this lug.’

“Yes, please,” said Rory.

“I second that,” Lorelai said.

“Third,” from Jess.

“Fourth,” from Mia who had wandered over. “I’d fly in for that.”

“Oh, we could do it like those shows! Iron chef!” exclaimed Sookie. “We’ll have assistants and someone to commentate and it’ll be so fun! We could raise money for charity or something? ”

Buddy and Luke got slightly panicked. Hurriedly, Luke said, “Why don’t we start with something smaller?”

“Potluck?” suggested Buddy, “Maybe for New Year’s?”

“Okay, that works too. Except it’ll have to be the day after cause I’m doing a big thing for the inn on New Year’s,” said Sookie with her typical easygoingness.

“We’ll put it on the calendar,” said Maisy.

“Score,” muttered Rory to her mother. Lorelai grinned and muttered back, “Definitely.”

Gradually, the party dispersed. Jackson and Sookie left first, having a babysitter waiting on their return. Cesar and his wife followed next, Cesar opening for Luke the next morning. Offering a ride, they took Lane and Harold with them. Liz and TJ went after them.

Buddy and Maisy lingered, mostly due to Maisy and Mia ensconcing themselves in a pair of armchairs and chattering away like the old friends they were.

Rory and Jess had fallen back into a discussion on literature and were heartlessly shredding movie adaptations when Lorelai asked her, “Mind keeping Luke company while we clean up? Otherwise, he’ll insist on helping. Buddy’s already volunteered.”

Glancing over, Rory saw Luke talking with Buddy about fishing.

“Will do,” said Rory.

Reaching for dirty plates, Jess volunteered, “I’ll help too.”

Quickly concealing her surprise at this, Lorelai said, “Thanks.”

Sure enough, when Rory joined them, Buddy excused himself to help Lorelai and Luke immediately said, “I should help too.”

Rory shook her head. “No, it’s your birthday. You don’t help.”

“Alright,” he conceded.

They sat quietly for a minute, Mia’s and Maisy’s voices a pleasant murmur in the background.

“Did you enjoy the party?” Rory asked.

“I did.”

“We thought of doing something bigger, like we do for ours, but we didn’t think you’d enjoy that, Mom and I.”

“It was perfect the way it was,” Luke assured her.

“Good.”

A thought occurred to Rory. She frowned and said, “You know, I actually don’t know how old you are.”

“Forty-one.”

“Four years older than Mom. And Liz is?”

“Right now, thirty-nine. She’ll turn forty in the summer. We’re only nineteen months apart.”

“Is it nice, having a sister?” asked Rory then backtracked. “I mean I know, you and Liz, Mom said you don’t always get along, but I’ve always wondered what it would be like.”

“It’s…” Luke sighed and thought for a second before replying. “It can be good. Liz and I, we’re different people and that - it causes problems. But when we were kids, we were closer. My mom, she used to give us each a nickel and we’d ride our bikes to the store for candy. Liz always wanted Red Hots.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was.”

“I like Buddy and Maisy.”

“They’re very good people. They’ve been wanting to meet you for a while, especially after they met your mom.”

Rory commented, “They seemed to know Jess already.”

“I took Jess there a couple of times when he was living with me.” Ruefully, Luke added, “He was his usual charming self so I didn’t feel the need to subject them to him or him to them on any sort of regular basis.”

“Lucas?” called Mia.

“Yes?”

“Do you remember the younger Faber boy? Wasn’t he engaged to the Nicholas girl?”

Luke shook his head. “No, Owen married Betsy McCord. They moved to Middletown a few years back, one kid already with another on the way.”

“That’s right,” Mia said with a snap of her fingers. “I remember now, a little girl named Daphne.”

“Luke was friends with his brother in high school,” said Maisy. “One time, they snuck into the school and got the principal’s desk up to the roof.”

“Allegedly,” put in Luke. “Never proved anything.”

“Why did you do it?” asked Rory, then added, “Allegedly of course.”

“Allegedly...he refused to let juniors leave early on Fridays if they didn’t have a last period,” Luke said. “Instead we had to sit in study hall.”

Buddy, Lorelai, and Jess approached the group. Maisy asked, “All done?”

“We’re good,” replied Lorelai. “Two of Sookie’s people stayed until dessert and helped with the cooking cleanup so there wasn’t too much to do.”

“Time to go then. See you tomorrow?” Maisy asked Mia, standing.

“I’ll meet you at Fran’s at eleven.” Mia also rose. “I’ll go ahead and say goodnight too. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Aren’t we all?” asked Buddy rhetorically.

“Let us walk you out,” offered Luke. After goodbyes were said to Rory and Jess, he and Lorelai escorted the three from the dining room.

With a few seconds of fidgeting, Jess stated, “Nice party.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” said Rory with a smile.

Jess’ throat undulated a bit before he said haltingly, “Listen, I...about the last year...when I showed up...I’m sorry. I was an idiot. Been an idiot around you a lot actually.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” With a sigh, Rory said, “I’ve gotten to know idiocy a bit better myself recently.”

“Luke mentioned you aren’t at Yale.” With she looked at him sharply, he added, “He didn’t say more than that, but I was asking how you were doing, and he couldn’t avoid it.”

“Oh.”

“Is everything okay with him and Lorelai? There were a couple of weeks this summer; he sounded strange and changed the subject whenever I tried to ask. But they seem fine now.”

“They had a fight. They recovered.” Rory tugged on a strand of hair. “You’re not going to ask me why I dropped out of Yale?”

“I figure, if you want to tell me, you’ll tell me,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s weird cause you were Miss College-Yay! You were really gung-ho about it. But, you know, it’s not like I’m in any position to judge.”

“I thought college was going to be like Heaven, all learning all the time. I would get to attend these great classes, read these great books, write great stories, and then after four years, I’d graduate and get this great job - and Yale was good in a lot of ways, but it was also a lot harder than I thought it would be,” Rory said. “I just had to take a break.”

“Sure.”

“It’s not that I’m not going back ever. Just not now. Not yet.”

“I got it.”

Changing the subject, Rory asked, “What about you? What’s next?”

“Well...there is something. It’s not ready yet, but should be soon. I’d like to show it to you, if that’s okay?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise. You wouldn’t believe it unless I show you,” he said.

“Okay.” Gesturing for him to follow, she walked towards the front desk. “Why don’t I give you my cell phone number and you can call me when it’s ready and we’ll meet up?”

“Sounds good. I’ll give you mine too.”

Rory scribbled her number on a notepad, tore the sheet off, and gave it and the pen to Jess. He pulled the notepad closer to him, wrote his number and pushed the notepad back over to her. Folding the sheet with her number, he tucked it into his jean pocket.

He said, “Thanks. And you can call me, if you want, for whatever. Only if you want though.”

“I might do that.”

“And then there were four,” sang out Lorelai as she and Luke re-entered the Dragonfly.

“And then three,” said Rory, catching sight of the clock on the front desk. She stepped to the coat closet to collect her coat and purse. Donning the coat, she said, “I have to be up for a breakfast thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you for coming, and for the gift,” Luke said.

“You’re welcome.” She gave him a brief hug. “I’ll see you Tuesday.” To her mom, she asked, “And we’re going shopping on Sunday right?”

“Absolutely, kid. Drive safe.” The Lorelais hugged.

“I will. Goodnight everyone.”

“Goodnight,” they chorused, Lorelai’s light voice a counterpoint to Luke’s and Jess’ deeper ones.

* * *

“I’m going to bed,” declared Jess, starting to climb the stairs after the door shut behind Rory. “I’ll stop by the diner for lunch before I head out tomorrow.”

Luke and Lorelai wished him goodnight.

“I guess we should go too,” Luke said, but Lorelai shook her head.

“Nope. We have the cottage for the night,” she informed him. “I packed a bag for you and Babette’s looking after Paul Anka.”

“That sounds nice,” he replied, his voice falling half an octave into a low rumble that caused Lorelai’s skin to heat.

“Come on.” Grabbing his hand, she led him to the detached cottage. Once inside, Luke drew her into his arms and kissed her.

When the kiss ended, he murmured, “Thank you. For all of this. I haven’t had a birthday like this in a long time.”

“It’s not quite over yet,” she declared and took one step back. “There might be one or two gifts left.”

From her dress’ pocket, she withdrew a small unwrapped box. It was the sort of box middling-priced earrings might come in: white with a lid that fitted over the bottom.

Luke took the box and, on her nod, lifted off the top. Two keys nestled on a bit of fluff, tied together with a plaid bow.

“Keys?”

“To my house.”

Frowning, he reminded her, “I’ve had keys to your house for years. In case of emergency.”

“I know, but these aren’t emergency keys. Or can-you-fix-my-faucet keys. Or in-case-I-lose-mine keys.” Lorelai locked her eyes on his. “They’re move-in-with-me keys. My-house-is-your-house keys. Official-we-live-together keys.”

When he didn’t respond, Lorelai began babbling, “You don’t have to say yes, and even if you say yes, you don’t have to move in right away. I know last time it just sort of happened, but this time I want to do it properly. Not on accident. On purpose. You say the word and I’ll clear out half the closet and half the dresser and we can repaint the shed so it’s not pink anymore and you can have a workspace and you can rearrange the kitchen however you want and maybe those new pots and pans can -”

A kiss interrupted her. His arms coiled around her, crushing her to him.

Lorelai didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around him just as tightly, barely remembering to hang onto the box and keep the keys from falling to the floor.

With a faint ‘pop,’ they separated their lips for oxygen.

“In case you couldn’t tell,” Luke whispered hoarsely, “That was a yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Tomorrow, we’ll pick a date.”

Still in the circle of his arms, Lorelai lifted the keys by the bow and dropped the box. Dangling them in front of Luke’s face, she demanded, “Put them on your keyring.”

Huffing a short laugh at her impatience, Luke extracted his keys from a pocket. Lorelai undid the bow. Prying the keyring open, Luke slid the new keys onto it as she handed each to him.

“There,” he said when finished. He jangled them, demonstrating that the keys were well and truly attached, and stuck the keyring back in his pocket.

“Good, and now for the last present,” Lorelai purred with a sultry look. She drew his hand to the knot of her dress. “I hope you like the wrappings.”

“I’m sure I will,” he replied, plucking at the knot. As it came undone, he pressed his lips to her throat and murmured, “Best birthday ever.”

* * *

Rory tapped on the study door. At her grandfather’s “come in,” she opened the door wide enough to poke her head in.

“Just wanted to let you know I was back, and say goodnight. Grandma still not home?”

“No, apparently there was some snafu and she’s helping sort it out,” replied Richard.

“Okay. Goodnight, Grandpa.” Withdrawing her head, she started closing the door.

“Wait a minute, please.” Rory paused and stuck her head back in. He removed his glasses, marked his page in his book, and set it on the side table. “Could we talk for a few minutes?”

“Sure.” Coming in, she took a seat across from him. “What about?”

“Luke Danes.”

Rory stiffened. Any trace of a smile vanished, replaced by a firm jaw and narrowed eyes. She said suspiciously, “What about Luke?”

“Are you aware what he said to your grandmother at your birthday party?”

“The gist of it, yes.”

“He was insulting. He had no right to talk to your grandmother like that,” declared Richard, punctuating his words with shakes of a pointed finger. “None at all.”

“No, he wasn’t. Grandma was the one being insulting. _She_ was the one who told him he wasn’t good enough for Mom. That he wouldn’t be a fit step-father for me. _She_ was the one who specifically invited Christopher to your vow renewal so he could break up Mom and Luke,” Rory retorted in a steely tone. “Luke didn’t do anything except defend himself.”

“Your grandmother only wants the best -”

“If that were true, she would be welcoming Luke into the family, not treating him as if he were trash,” interrupted Rory. “No, she just wants Mom and me and Christopher together, playing happy family, as if we were all along. As if the past twenty years never happened. Well, they did.”

“That’s not true,” protested Richard.

“Then she’s delusional. Because that’s the only reason I can think of why she would ever think my father would be a better choice than Luke.” Glaring at her grandfather, Rory accused, “I know you think that too. You’ve done a better job at hiding it than Grandmother, but you do. You don’t really think Luke believed that you thought he was capable of running a franchise, did you? He may not be a Yale man but he’s not stupid - and neither am I. It took me a while to work it out, but I realized that a franchise owner, even if he was just a figurehead, would be so much more respectable than a mere diner owner.”

Richard spluttered, “Now you see here -”

“You’ve always claimed to be a great judge of character. But from where I’m sitting, you haven’t been doing a very good job,” Rory declared. “You and Grandmother both. My father had the good luck of being born into the right family and he has money. That’s it. What has he done for himself? Nothing. What has he earned or built for himself? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He’s never been there for me, he’s never been there for Mom, he pretends to try and gives up at the first sign of difficulty. He’s unreliable, irresponsible, selfish - and somehow he’s still good enough?”

Rory shook her head. “And compared to Luke? God, if I tried to list all the ways he’s helped us - Mom and me - over the years, we’d be here all night. We always knew we could depend on him. Always. He didn’t do it because he wanted to date Mom either. He did it because he was our friend and he cared about us. Luke is everything my father isn’t. I’m sorry that you’re so blinded by your arrogance and snobbery that you can’t see how good a person Luke is. I never wanted to think that you and Grandmother could be so petty and superficial, but you’re not willing to even give Luke a chance. You didn’t bother to try to get to know him before you decided he was beneath us, not worthy of even basic common courtesy.”

Shoving herself to her feet, Rory finished, “You don’t have to like him, but I don’t want to hear you or Grandmother badmouthing him any more. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Goodnight.”

She stalked out.

Behind her, Richard Gilmore sagged in his armchair. Astonished by Rory’s fierce defense, he’d fallen silent.

Arrogant. Snob. Petty. Superficial.

The words repeated themselves, over and over, in his head. They marched across his retinas in an endless procession. They burrowed deeper and deeper until they infested all other thoughts.

When Emily returned, she found him still seated in his armchair.  

“Richard?”

“Hmm?” He wrestled his attention onto his wife.

“What are you doing up? You should have gone to bed,” she chided him.

“Yes well, I was doing some thinking,” he said. “You’re right though, past time for bed.”

Rory’s words didn’t leave him as they prepared for bed. He fell asleep with them continuing to echo.


	7. Chapter 7

“Why did you drop out of Yale?” demanded Jess, whipping around to face Rory. It being November, they were alone on the restaurant’s patio.

Shoulders hunched, Rory folded her arms. “It’s complicated, and I thought you weren’t going to ask.”

“I wasn’t but - when you were in Stars Hollow, you were you. Here, it’s like you’ve been replaced by a pod person that smells of Chanel and thinks Ronald Reagan was the bestest president ever,” Jess shot back. “Who spends her time planning parties and being that jerk’s designated driver. What the hell happened?”

“I - it’s -” stuttered Rory, gasping as her mind devolved into a frenzied tilt-a-whirl of memories. She blurted, “I stole a yacht.”

Jess choked. “You - stole - a -”

“Yacht. I stole a yacht.”

Gaping at her, he demanded, “Why? How? What?”

“I stole a yacht,” she repeated shrilly. “How hard is that to understand?”

“I think I’m getting that,” replied Jess. “But that makes no sense. Why would you steal a yacht? You got freaked out that one time I sprayed silly string all over Taylor’s car.”

“You wanna know?”

“Yes.”

The floodgates burst. “Logan’s dad is Mitchum Huntzberger. He owns a dozen newspapers. He offered me an internship last spring and I took it. I thought I was doing really good, I was in the middle of everything, everyone liked me, I was working with real reporters. I thought he liked my work. And then, out of nowhere, he sat me down and said I didn’t have it. He said he knew what it took to succeed in the business and I just didn’t have what it took. That I would make a wonderful secretary or assistant for someone. He said he was doing me a favor, letting me know so I could quit now before I made a fool of myself and wasted my life on a career I would never make it in.”

She gulped and plowed onwards, “I left the office. I had to get away, away from everyone. I went to see Logan, he was at his sister’s engagement party at the marina, and I convinced him to steal a yacht with me. It wasn’t his idea; it was mine. We got caught, I got three _hundred_ hours of community service, I dropped out of Yale, Mom was mad and didn’t want me living at home so I went to my grandparents. They let me stay in the pool house, at least until they figured out that I wasn’t a virgin and made me move into the house. Grandma got me a job at the D.A.R. because I needed money. I spent the summer doing that and my community service, finished that the week after my birthday. Mom wouldn’t talk to me for over two months but Luke did and that was why they fought. As if it wasn’t enough screwing up my own life, I almost managed to screw up theirs too.”

“So -” Rory heaved a shaky breath, “ - that’s the story. That’s how I ended up here. Stars Hollow’s golden girl with a criminal record, a job her grandmother found for her, living in her grandparents’ house, with no plans, no future.”

“I bet you thanked him.”

Jess’ bland comment threw Rory. Her head twitched. “What?”

“Mitchell, Michael, the guy. The one who gave you the internship.” Jess stuck his hands in his pockets. “I bet you thanked him.”

Recalling, Rory sniffed and said, “Yeah...I think I did.”

Jess rocked on his heels. “You should have told him to shove it.”

“What? I couldn’t - he knows what he’s talking about, he almost won a Pulitzer, he does this for a living and really well -”

“So what? He’s one man, Rory. One arrogant jackass who thinks being rich gives him the right to walk all over people.” Yanking his hands free of his pockets, Jess gesticulated as he spoke. “You’re gonna let one man stop you from following your dream? Stop you from even trying? Where the hell do you think I’d be if I’d let other people’s opinions decide my life for me?”

“It’s not the -”

Shouting now, Jess overruled her. “Nowhere that’s where. Most people, most people thought I’d be doing really swell to hold down a job at McDonald’s rather than in prison or in a crack house with a needle shoved in my arm. You - you’ve got a whole damn town cheering for you, grandparents who are loaded and can pay for Chilton and Yale, a mom who actually knows how to be a mom - and you’re letting one man stop you?”

With a jerked wave, Jess spat, “Screw him! Prove him wrong! And when you get published on the front page of the New York Times, above the fold, send him a hundred copies just to rub his face in it.”

“You don’t understand,” Rory protested, a whine in her voice. “What if he’s right?”

“Look, I know you’ve got some freaky need to be liked. To have everyone think you’re this amazing, perfect person but for god’s sake, Rory, is this who you really want to be?” He pointed back towards the bar. “That jerk’s sidekick? In five years, do you want to be Mrs. Porsche, picking him up when he’s too drunk to drive, planning his parties, hanging on his arm? We used to make fun of people like that. Where’s the Rory who wanted to be Christiane Amanpour?”

“I don’t know!” exclaimed Rory. “Is that what you want to hear? I. Don’t. Know.”

“You’re not gonna figure it out hanging out in bars or dressing up like Emily Gilmore’s mini-me. Don’t want to go back to Yale, fine, there’s like a bajillion colleges out there. Don’t want to be a journalist, fine, try things out until you do find something you do like. Hell, if you really like the party business, then get a business degree and start your own company doing that,” Jess raved at her. “And fuck anyone who says you can’t do it. Maybe you’ll fail. Maybe you’ll fail a lot. But at least you’ll have tried.”

“Jess…” Bowing her head, Rory squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to cry.

Jess’ fervor evaporated, his body releasing the tension in a heaving sigh. “Rory...I…”

“Rory!” warbled Logan. Turning, they saw him striding towards them, only a little unsteady. “There you are.”

He slung an arm around Rory’s shoulders, not noticing her flinch.

“What’re you two doing out here?” he demanded with a suspicious glint in his eyes. To Rory, he said, “Come on back inside. I ordered you onion rings.”

“I’ve got to go,” said Jess. “Rory, you’ve got my phone number. Let me know how you like the book.”

“Okay,” Rory replied, almost in a whisper.

Jess walked a handful of steps down the sidewalk before he turned around. “And, by the way, Happy Birthday. It was a few weeks ago, right?”

“Yeah, it was. Thanks.”

She let Logan escort her back inside.

* * *

Lorelai scrolled to the appendix of the PDF. “Ooh, this is so pretty.”

Lifting the laptop, she turned it around. “What do you think?”

Luke paused, a glass of soda in his hand. “Looks fine.”

He resumed course and deposited the soda in front of Mrs. Ellison three seats down. The woman looked up from her stack of papers, saying, “Thanks, and a slice of apple pie when you have the chance? I need something to get through these essays. If I read one more essay that tried to get away with only watching the movie and not actually reading the book…”

“Coming right up,” replied Luke.

He returned to the register to ring up the Kemps. As Lorelai was seated beside the register, she pouted at him and said, “You barely glanced at it.”

“10.13,” he said to the Kemps. To Lorelai, he said, “What do I know about web pages? It looks good. What more do you want?”

“Well, you are an investor. I would think you would be more interested,” she said, turning laptop back to face herself and lowering it to the counter.

“Night, Luke,” said Perry Kemp.

“Goodnight.” Luke fetched Mrs. Ellison’s pie, delivered it, and collected the Kemps’ dishes. With thirty minutes left until closing, he’d sent Lane home and Caesar had left once the dinner rush had ended. The few remaining customers had already received their food so Luke popped into the kitchen to start a run of the dishwasher. He returned to the counter, setting up a line of syrup containers to refill.

“Considering that you’re booked to eighty-four percent even though it’s the off season, I’m not worried about my investment,” he told Lorelai. That made her drop the pout, a smile replacing it. “I wouldn’t want to interfere in things I know nothing about.”

“See, that’s why you are such a smart man,” rejoined Lorelai. “Coffee, please?”

“It’ll rot your insides.”

“My insides have adapted.”

With a disapproving shake of his head, Luke poured her coffee and gave it to her. She gulped it happily, returning to her perusal of the proposal from a website design service for the Dragonfly.

 Luke tended to his final customers. As each person or group left, he began upending chairs on tables. Long habit meant he barely needed to think as he went about his closing procedures.

Lorelai’s presence was a new facet of that habit. She didn’t come every day, but on the days he closed, she came about half the time. As she often brought her laptop, ostensibly to work on Dragonfly business but often used for browsing the internet, Luke had caved. He’d bought a longer cable, running it from the jack, down the wall, across the floor between counter and wall, and up the counter with the free end by the cash register. He’d secured it with staples where possible and taped the part on the floor with a thick strip to prevent it from being a tripping hazard.

It was worth it to have Lorelai there. While he had customers, she occupied herself with her laptop or a magazine or with talking to someone she knew.

When the last customer left, Luke flipped the sign to “Closed.” Depositing a bin of clean silverware along with napkins by Lorelai, he worked on cleaning the grill and sending the last load into the dishwasher. Through the kitchen opening, he listened to Lorelai chatter, her voice slightly raised so he could hear.

From time to time, she required a response but mostly she just wanted to talk and know that someone was there to hear it. Luke suspected Rory had once served the same purpose he now did. As she talked, she rolled silverware into the napkins. Other nights, she would refill salt and pepper shakers or clean the miniature lamps he used in the evenings.

On the nights he closed alone, Luke had started turning on the radio at a low volume.

When he finished, mopping usually being the last step, they would either retire upstairs or go to her house together. Since his birthday, the apartment upstairs had seen less use; he’d only stayed there twice.

“Ring, ring!”

Throwing a used dishrag into the hamper, Luke grabbed for the phone. “Luke’s.”

“It’s Jess. I’m passing through and wanted to know if it would be okay to crash at the apartment for a night.”

“Yeah, that should be fine,” answered Luke. “How far away are you?”

“I’ve stopped for gas just outside of Hartford.”

“Okay. I’ll stay until you get here.”

“I can just use the key,” offered Jess.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not quite done closing up anyways.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

He hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” asked Lorelai immediately. She leaned on her elbows.

“Jess. Asked if he could stay here tonight. I said yes.” While a nod towards the door, he said, “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes so I’ll stay to let him in. You should go ahead; I’ll be home soon.”

Lorelai smiled blindingly. Luke asked, “What?”

“I just, I really like you calling the Crap Shack home.” Standing, she leaned across the counter and Luke met her for a kiss. “Hurry home, sweetheart.”

She departed, putting on scarf and mittens against the cold front that had swept into town. A few seconds later, her Jeep passed by the window.

Luke finished cleaning. He jaunted upstairs to change the sheets on both beds, then busied himself with the account books downstairs. He left the door unlocked.

With a duffel slung over a shoulder, Jess entered a little more than twenty minutes later. His hair was disordered as if he’d been pulling at it.

“Hey,” said Luke.

“Hey,” said Jess. “Thanks for letting me crash.”

“Sure. What brings you up here?” asked Luke. He peered at Jess, the young man’s expression disturbed, and added, “Is something wrong?”

“No - and yeah. Not with me. I was on my way to Providence, and I stopped in Hartford for a couple of days.”

Luke frowned, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. “Hartford?”

“I saw Rory. Last night, and we were planning to go to dinner tonight, but then her boyfriend showed up when he wasn’t supposed to and we went out together -” Dropping his bag with a thunk, Jess declared, “Rory stole a yacht.”

Luke nodded. “Yeah.”

“Rory stole a yacht. I swear, it’s like I walked into a Twilight Zone episode. I mean, I knew she quit Yale, but what the hell?” ranted Jess, starting to pace. “That girl - that wasn’t Rory. She’s not going to Yale, she’s living in her grandparents’ house in a room that looks like Stepford Barbie designed it, she’s dating a pompous asshole, she’s given up on her dreams - what the fucking hell?”

“I wish I knew,” Luke replied tiredly.

“Have you tried talking to her?”

“I tried. Lorelai tried. She’s not listening, especially as her grandparents are going along with. They like her asshole boyfriend,” Luke explained. “Probably also like that she’s acting like the daughter they wanted, minus the criminal record of course.”

“Figures. He’s rich and they get the daughter Lorelai isn’t.”

“Yep.”

Jess plopped onto a stool. “God, this is fucked up.”

“You’re not wrong.” Luke cocked his head. “Why did you go see her in the first place? Because if you wanted - Jess, the last thing she needs -”

“Relax.” Bending down, Jess rooted in his bag. He extracted a slender volume. “I wanted to give her this. Never would have tried doing this without her.”

He handed it to Luke who needed a second and a third glance to convince himself he wasn’t imaging things.

“ _The Subsect_ , Jess Mariano,” he read off the cover. Stunned, he looked at Jess. “You wrote a book.”

“It’s not much. We only printed 500 copies. That’s what I’m doing now, making the rounds of independent bookstores, trying to convince people to put them on shelves. I was gonna swing by Stars Hollow on my way back to Philadelphia,” said Jess, shrugging and seeming self-conscious.

“Jess, this is really impressive,” stated Luke.

“If you want, you could keep that copy,” Jess offered. “I know it’s not something you’d normally like, but, if you felt like giving it a shot…”

“Of course, I want to keep the copy. How much -”

“Don’t even ask.” Jess shook his head. “You and Rory, I never would have written it if it weren’t for the two of you.”

“Thank you,” said Luke. “And I will read it. May not understand everything, but I’ll read it. You should ask Andrew tomorrow if he’d take a few copies.”

“You think he would? I’m pretty sure I’m considered one of the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse around here.”

“Maybe, but he can always sell it that way. Might make people curious and, we’ve never had a published writer from here before, least not that I can remember,” Luke said. “You might as well try.”

“Might as well,” echoed Jess. Grabbing his bag, he asked, “I’m kinda beat. Mind if I?” He pointed to the stairs.

“Go ahead. You’ll have the place to yourself.”

“Thought you were moving Monday?”

“I am, officially. But…” Luke shrugged. “I started bringing things, box at a time. You need anything, just call.”

“I’ll be fine. Night.” Walking the length of the dinner, Jess pushed through the curtain. A second later, he reappeared, taking a step out.

At Luke’s questioning look, he cleared his throat and said, “I get it now. Why you were so mad at me when I quit going to school.”

“Huh?”

“Today, with Rory, she could do so much more with her life and she’s wasting it. I - I was so mad at her. I wanted to shake her, I wanted to stick her in the trunk of the car and drive her back to Yale, I wanted - I don’t know -  I wanted her to be everything I know she can be. Driving away, that’s when I realized that was how you felt about me. Why you were angry.” Jess walked closer until he was within arms length of Luke. “My teachers, my Mom, my Dad, this town, all they wanted was for me not to be their problem. They wanted me kept out of trouble but they never expected me to actually become anything, do anything. You did. You pushed me because you honestly thought I could do better, that I could do something worthwhile with my life.”

“And you have,” replied Luke, waving the book still in his hand for emphasis. “You’ve got your GED, you’ve got a decent job, you wrote a book which is more than most people can say. You did it, not me, all after you left Stars Hollow.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you. I know I didn’t - I didn’t act like I was listening, but I was. I remembered. Took awhile to sink in, but it did. So thanks. Thanks for getting mad at me.”

“Hey, I’m good at that.” Luke pulled Jess into a brief hug, his nephew stepping into it without hesitation. Releasing Jess, Luke added, “You ever need a reminder, you know where to find me.”

“I know. I’m just hoping it sinks in for Rory too.”

“That’ll be nice.”

“Well...goodnight. Again.”

“Night, Jess.”

Jess headed upstairs.

Sighing, Luke said to the air. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

He donned his coat and gloves. Carrying the book, he turned off the lights, locked the door and trod to his truck, careful to watch for ice by the glow of the streetlamps.


	8. Chapter 8

Fuming, Rory stalked out of the Russian tea party and drove straight to Stars Hollow. She slept on an air mattress beside Lane’s bed. 

In the morning, she told Lane, “I want to be me again.”

“Sorry?” asked Lane, pouring them each a bowl of cereal. “Aren’t you always you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t like the me I’ve been lately.” Rory prodded at her generic version of Frosted Flakes. “Help me make a list? Of how to get back to the Rory I want to be?”

“Let me go steal one of Brian’s notepads.” 

* * *

The next day, with Finn’s and Colin’s help, Rory packed up her belongings at her grandparents’ house. She timed it to miss Emily and Richard, Richard at work and Emily at a hair appointment.

She sorted everything into three piles. In one, she put two weeks worth of clothes, her favorite books, and a handful of other precious items including the album her mom had made her and the pearls from Luke. In the second, she placed the majority of her books, the rest of the clothing she actually liked, and other miscellaneous things. Into the third, she dumped every article of clothing and every accessory that reminded her of being the D.A.R. darling. 

Rory packed the first component into suitcases rather than boxes. The boys and she loaded those into her trunk. They crammed the third division into her backseat.

Finn and Colin transported the second component to a storage unit in New Haven.

On her way back to Stars Hollow, Rory detoured to  _ New Threads, New Lives _ , an organization for which she’d volunteered as part of her community service _. _ Carrying one box from the backseat, she walked to the donation counter at the rear of a store filled with racks of secondhand clothes.

“I’d like to drop this off, and there’s few more boxes in the car,” Rory told the lady manning the counter. Her nametag read Sophie. 

“Sure, just bring them in,” she replied. Rory brought in the other boxes, Sophie already sifting through the first. 

“These are great,” said Sophie. “Very nice quality, some of them look brand new, I definitely know women who will be able to make good use of these.”

“Good. I don’t need them anymore.”

“Do you need a receipt? For taxes?” asked Sophie. “It might take me a few minutes to evaluate these, but I can get you something to drink while you wait?”

With a smile, Rory shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I just wanted to get rid of them. I’m glad they’re going to someone who will appreciate them more than I did.”

She walked out, feeling lighter than she’d felt in months. 

When she arrived at Lane’s house, she dialed her mom’s cell. 

“Hey, sweets, how are you?” answered her mother. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m okay, why do you ask?”

“Jess stayed the night at the diner, and Luke said he’d visited you in Hartford. To tell you about his book? Did he upset you?”

“He did come by, but this isn’t about him. I had a fight with Grandma. I’m going to be staying at Lane’s for a while,” Rory informed her mother, skirting the question about Jess. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Thanks for telling me. Do you wanna maybe grab lunch tomorrow? Tell Mommy about it?” 

“I can’t, I’ve got stuff to do in Hartford the next couple of days, but dinner? Pizza at Lane’s?” suggested Rory. “Zach and Brian might forgive me for using two paper towels if I bribe them with a meat lover’s supreme.”

“Two paper towels?” queried Lorelai. 

“It’s a very serious crime in the Hep Alien house.”

“I’ll bring cheesy bread too then,” said Lorelai. “About seven?”

“Sounds good. See you tomorrow.”

* * *

Three days later, she walked out of the Dean’s office having convinced him to allow her to return for the spring semester. She picked up a course catalog as she left.

* * *

“So Taylor tried to ban the book,” recounted Lane, snacking on chips. Rory tucked her legs underneath herself and reached for a handful.

“Really? What happened? What did Luke do?”

“Spectacular rant, one of his best according to Devon, right in middle of the market so of course, everyone in town knew about it within fifteen minutes,” Lane said. “When I walked by the bookstore on my way home, Andrew had sold out completely.”

“Allure of the forbidden,” Rory said sagely. “Good for Jess.” 

“I know, right? Who would’ve thought?”

After a few more chips, Rory said, “I called the Yale financial office.”

“And?”

“They said I was paid up for the spring semester. Apparently my grandfather paid for this fall in advance and refused to accept a refund when I didn’t go. Told them to keep it for the next semester.” 

“Well, that’s one last thing to worry about. What about a place to live?”

Rory shook her head. “I called the housing department too. They said they’ll try to find a spot, but if they do, it’ll probably be in the one of the worst dorms. They didn’t put it exactly that way but…” She shrugged. “I got the subtext.”

“When will you know if they have a spot?”

“I don’t know. They don’t know.”

“What are you going to do now?” asked Lane.

“If I don’t hear back within a week, I’ll start looking for an apartment. Maybe call Paris, see if she has a roommate for the spring semester.”

“Given that I think you’re the only person who can tolerate her for extended periods, I’d say you’ve got a pretty good shot,” Lane said. 

“I’m going to talk to Mom tonight,” Rory announced, fiddling with a button on her sweater. “Tell her I’m going back.”

“She’ll be happy.” Lane peered at her friend. “And you’re happy too, right? This is what you want?”

“It is,” said Rory confidently. 

“Good.”

* * *

Rory pulled up behind Luke’s green truck. As she stepped out of the car, she smelled woodsmoke. It was a welcoming scent, considering the darkness and chilly temperature of only six degrees above freezing.

Trying the door, she realized it was locked. She used her key, swinging open the door with a called, “Mom? Luke?”

“Rory!” Her mother’s exclamation guided her into the living room. Lorelai sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace. She held a long three-pronged skewer in the fireplace, a plump marshmallow on each prong. She had a box of graham crackers, several bars of Hershey’s, and a half-full bag of marshmallows next to her. “Luke made a fire, so I’m making s’mores.”

“I can see that.” Rory grinned at the man who sat in an armchair back from the fireplace, Paul Anka watching Lorelai’s movements warily from beside his feet. Out of habit, she checked the title of book in his hands:  _ The Two Towers. _ “Hi Luke.”

“Hi Rory.” 

“I didn’t know you liked fantasy,” she commented as she plopped down opposite her mom.

With a shrug, he said, “I like a few things.”

Shedding her coat and hat, Rory tossed them across the nearby sofa arm. Lorelai passed her a s’mores. 

“So what brings you all the way across the icy waste to this poor house?” asked Lorelai. She crammed a s’mores into her mouth and stuck three more marshmallows on the skewer. 

Rory licked her fingers clean, then leaned and reached into the inner pocket of her coat. She produced a folded piece of notebook paper. She unfolded and smoothed it out as best she could on her knee. Handing the sheet to Lorelai, she said, “This.”

Lorelai read the page. She looked at Rory, back down at the paper, and back at Rory. 

“This is…”

“The classes I intend to take next semester.” 

“You’re going back?” Lorelai asked, her voice strangely pitched.

“Yes, I am.”

Squealing, and just barely remembering to drop the skewer first, Lorelai flung her arms around Rory. “You’re going back! Luke, did you hear that? Rory’s going back to Yale!”

“I heard,” he replied much more composedly, smiling at the younger woman. “That’s great news.”

Rory returned her mother’s hug. She explained excitedly, “Registration doesn’t open until after Thanksgiving, but I’ve already got almost everything settled. I talked to the Dean day before yesterday, and he agreed to allow me to return even though the deadline for enrollment for spring has already passed.”

Lorelai let her go, and Rory settled on her heels. “I saw my advisor yesterday, and she helped me work out a plan so I can graduate on time. I’ll have to take summer courses but it’s doable. And today, I talked to the financial office and Grandpa wouldn’t let them refund my tuition for this semester so I’m using it for the spring semester.”

“Wow! You’ve done a lot. You know, we could have helped,” Lorelai said. 

“I know, I do. But I needed to do this without any parental or grandparental involvement,” Rory replied firmly. “I needed to do this for myself, by myself. I needed to prove to me that I could.”

“I get that,” Lorelai said. She was beaming. 

“What about housing?” asked Luke.

“That’s the last piece. I’ve got about six weeks to figure that out though,” said Rory. “I packed up my stuff from Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Colin and Finn took most of it to the storage locker that’s storing the dorm furniture Grandma bought, and I’ve got three suitcases of the rest at Lane’s.”

Her smile going a bit tentative, Lorelai asked, “Are you going to stay at Lane’s? Until you go back?”

“Actually...I was hoping...sleeping on an air mattress and living with two boys...it’s fine for a few days, but...for a few weeks -”

“Come home,” declared Lorelai. “Although there’s one boy now but at least this one cooks and cleans up after himself.”

Luke rolled his eyes. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Rory said. 

“Tonight,” added Lorelai. 

“Tonight?” repeated Rory. “It’s late. I figured, in the morning -”

“Tonight,” Luke echoed Lorelai’s statement, his baritone lending the word a decisive finality. “If you need help?”

“No, no, I’ll just throw everything into the suitcases. I didn’t unpack very much anyways, just enough for a couple of days.” Scrambling to her feet, Rory declared, “I’ll go now. Back in a jiff.”

Throwing on her coat, forgetting her hat, she dashed from the room and out the door. 

“Rory’s coming home. Rory’s going back to Yale,” Lorelai murmured wonderingly with a dazed expression as the door shut. “I’m not imaging this, am I?”

“No, you’re not.” Luke reassured her. 

Springing to her feet, Lorelai declared, “Fresh sheets! She needs fresh sheets on her bed.” 

She darted away towards Rory’s room. Paul Anka wuffled concernedly at her excitement. Scratching his ears, Luke told him, “You should be happy. You’re gonna be even more spoiled.”

Ten seconds later, Lorelai reappeared in the living room, sheets clutched against her chest.

“Rory’s going back to Yale,” she stated, grinning ear to ear. 

“Rory’s going back to Yale.”

“Yes!” Lorelai punched the air. “Yes!”

Getting to his feet, Luke chuckled and mentally ran through the contents of the kitchen. While they would doubtless insist on more s’mores, he also doubted they would turn their noses up at additional food, particularly if it was a couple of Rory’s favorites. 

* * *

“If I were legally allowed, I would kick Miss-Sociology-Is-So-A-Hard-Science out tomorrow,” Paris informed Rory with a jerk of her thumb at the second bedroom. “Unfortunately, I can’t. But she is leaving as soon as exams are over.”

“When’s her last exam?”

“Tuesday. Give her one day to move, and you can move in Thursday the 22nd,” said Paris. “She’s getting a partial refund for December, so you’ll have to pay for the rest and the first month of January at the same time plus the deposit.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Rory assured her. “I think my grandparents would buy the whole building if it means I’m coming back.”

“Goody for you,” replied Paris, sounding a little envious. “I still have to justify any expense to the lawyers. A bunch of morons who should have stuck their fingers in an electrical outlet a long time ago.”

Rory hmmed sympathetically then asked, “I’m guessing you’re not seeing family for Thanksgiving?”

“You’re kidding, right? No. Nanny is working so she can take extra days off around Christmas, and as for my so-called parents…” Paris rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. I’m staying here.”

“What about Doyle?”

“He’s staying too. He says it's not worth the complaining and guilt-tripping he gets from whichever parent he doesn’t spend it with. Better to say he has to stay here to study or to work on the paper.”

“I have an idea.” Grabbing her purse, Rory scrounged for her cell phone. She extracted it and dialed. It rang twice before it was answered. 

“Luke’s.”

“Hi Luke, it’s me.”

“Rory? Hi. What’s going on?”

“I was wondering if I could invite some friends to Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked. “At the diner?”

Across the table, Paris mouthed, “At the diner?” Rory nodded. 

“Of course you can,” replied Luke. 

“Really?”

“It’s Thanksgiving. Everyone’s welcome, and especially if they’re your friends. Invite them,” he said. “Just let me know how many.”

“Thanks, Luke. I’ll ask and get back to you.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Nope, that was all. Bye, Luke.”

“Bye, Rory.”

Rory flipped the phone closed. “So what do you think? You and Doyle? It’s always very good food.”

“Will there be pumpkin pie?” asked Paris. “I was never allowed to have pumpkin pie.”

“Yes. With lots of whipped cream if you want it,” said Rory. “And homemade cranberry sauce and sweet potatoes with toasted marshmallows on top and green beans with bits of bacon in them.” 

“That does sound good,” Paris admitted. “I’ll ask Doyle.”

“Just call me if you decide to come, even if it’s on the day of. Luke always makes sure there’s plenty for everyone.” 

“Okay.”

Rory stood, lifting her coat from the chair’s back. “I’ve got to go. I promised to meet Logan for coffee between his classes.”

“I can’t believe you said that seriously,” Paris said. 

“Sometimes, I can’t either.” 

Rory showed herself out and hiked the two blocks to campus. Entering the coffee shop, she was shouted at. “Rory, over here!”

“Hello, everyone,” she said, walking to the corner booth and taking the seat they’d left her. She sipped the coffee they’d had waiting for her before cradling it to warm her hands. “Thanks.” 

After ten minutes, conversation turned to their Thanksgiving plans. 

“My aunt, uncle, and cousins are coming into town. My grandfather insists on a ‘family’ Thanksgiving with everyone in attendance,” Logan said. “So I’ll be stuck eating dry turkey with them. Joy.”

“My father’s in Jamaica with his latest mistress,” said Colin. 

“My parents are in Aspen,” Finn informed them with a shrug. “Will be for three weeks.”

“We figure we’ll stock up on pizza and Chinese food and alcohol,” Colin said. 

“What about you?” Logan asked Rory. “Your grandparents do the whole Thanksgiving feast on the good china routine?”

“No, not really. They tried once or twice, but Mom and I have our own tradition.”

“Which is?” prompted Colin. 

“We go to Lane’s first in the early afternoon but we try to eat as little as possible because, well, Lane’s mom cooks nothing that tastes good no matter how good it’s supposed to be for you. Then, around five, we go to Luke’s,” explained Rory. “He stays open on Thanksgiving. Mom and I have been going there since we moved into the house.” 

She finished the cooling dregs of her coffee, buying herself a few seconds to consider. A touch hesitantly, she asked, “If you were interested, I’ve already asked Luke if I could bring friends and he said I could, so would you like to come for dinner? I’ve invited Paris and Doyle already, but Luke said all I had to do was tell him how many. It’s not fancy, but the food is always delicious. No alcohol though.” She said the last bit teasingly. 

Colin and Finn looked at one another. Finn declared, “Your word is gospel when it comes to food. If you say, it’s delicious, then it’s delicious.”

“Sounds much better than takeout,” said Colin. “And so much the better if we don’t have to keep our pinkies in the air.” 

“We’d be delighted,” Finn answered for them both. “Besides, we want to see this Stars Hollow that you’ve told us so many stories about.”

With a glare reminiscence of a stern teacher’s, Rory ordered, “You will be on your best behavior, won’t you? Don’t go flashing money about and don’t make any smart comments either. This is my hometown, these are my friends, and Luke is practically family.  Don’t go making asses of yourselves, okay?”

Colin and Finn raised their right hands. They chorused, “We promise.”

“Good. I’ll text you the address. Plan on being there at five.”

“It’s a plan,” said Colin.

With an exaggerated pout, Logan complained, “It’s not fair. They get to spend Thanksgiving with you, eating delicious food, getting to see your hometown, and I’m going to be stopping myself from throwing mashed potatoes in my father’s face and seeing how drunk Mother gets before she has to go ‘lie down’.” 

“I’ll make it up to you,” promised Rory, causing Colin and Finn to snicker. 

“You’d better,” replied Logan. Pointing at her cup, he asked, “Another? I’ve still got time before my next class.” 

“Yes, and one of those snowman cookies please.” 

“Oh me too!” and “Me three!” came from Colin and Finn as Logan stood. 

“Yes, yes, children, I’ll get cookies for everyone.” 

“Thanks, Dad!” called Colin as he strode for the counter. 

Finn added, “You’re the bestest Dad in the whole wide world.”

“Shut up!” shouted Logan. Rory giggled, and continued giggling as the pair began discussing with every appearance of sincerity what a suitable Father’s Day present would be for Logan. Colin favored a t-shirt with their faces printed on it; Finn suggested a tie emblazoned with “World’s Greatest Father” in neon. 


	9. Thanksgiving

“Ba-ring! Ba-ring!”

“Aarrrr! Make it stop,” mumbled Lorelai, rolling over. She clamped a hand over the ear not pressed to the pillow.

Beside her, Luke freed an arm and slammed the off button of the alarm clock on his bedside table. He whispered, “Sorry, go back to sleep.” 

Lorelai grunted, but peeled open her eyes as the covers shifted and his weight disappeared from the bed. She squinted at the clock’s red numbers.

“What’re you doing? It’s three A.M.” 

Luke tucked the covers around her. “I have to get started early.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll try to be quiet. You go back to sleep.”

Letting her eyelids close, Lorelai wriggled into the warm spot he’d left and obeyed. 

* * *

She woke hours later, ambling downstairs in robe and hippopotamus slippers to find the coffee pot prepped. When she’d turned it on and the first drops had landed in the pot, Rory emerged from her room. She also wore a robe and slippers, pink ears flopping on each step.

The two women hovered by the pot, mugs in hand, as the elixir brewed. Yawning, Rory asked, “Where’s Luke?”

“At the diner I guess. He got up at an ungodly hour, said something about getting started.”

“But he doesn’t start serving until one? And he’s been chopping and making dough and doing all sorts of kitcheny things all week?”

Shrugging, Lorelai waved her hand in a who-knows gesture. The coffee finished and they pounced on it. 

After taking their time getting dressed, Lorelai drove them into town. As usual, Luke’s was the only shop not festooned with turkey cutouts or giant leaves or pilgrim paraphernalia. The blinds were drawn with the sign flipped to close. 

Lorelai rapped on the door. “Lukey! Oh Lukey!” The door opened. “Hi doll, guess who - you’re not Luke.”

Ariana shook her head, stepping aside so they could enter. “Nope. He’s elbow deep in a turkey.”

Lorelai inhaled, the air delicious with roasting meats and baking pies. There was a table of unfinished pies, and Spanish music drifted through the open kitchen doorway, accompanied by the chop of knives and clang of pans. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” Lorelai told Ariana. “Were you here last year and I was just blind?”

“No, I had to cover Thanksgiving last year, and the year before that Cesar and I weren’t married yet,” replied Ariana. She settled at the table with the pies. “Luke offered Cesar the day off, but I could tell he wanted to be here so I said I’d come with him. I’m no genius in the kitchen, but I can scoop pie filling.”

She demonstrated by spooning cinnamon apples into a pie crust.

“You don’t have family nearby?” asked Rory. 

“No, mine’s in New Mexico and Cesar’s in Texas. Too much trouble and too much money for only a couple of days,” said Ariana. 

Luke emerged from the kitchen, toweling his hands dry. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you until later. I thought you would be at the Dragonfly.”

“Sookie and Michel are running Thanksgiving at the Dragonfly. Michel was complaining that I didn’t trust him so I gave it to him,” Lorelai said. “ I must’ve forgot to tell you.”

“Have you had breakfast, I can’t do a lot -”

“We had Poptarts,” interjected Rory. She pointed at the pies, asking, “Can I help with these?”

Luke nodded and said, “If Ariana doesn’t mind?”

“Grab a spoon,” invited the woman. Rory took a seat and began filling a peach pie. 

Lorelai rounded the counter and commandeered a kiss from Luke. “I want to help too.”

“Umm…”

“Decorations? You need something - maybe a little bunch of flowers on each table? With a little bow?” Lorelai suggested. “I think I’ve got some yellow and orange ribbon at home. Add some color, make it more festive, what’d ya say?”

She smiled winningly at him. Luke huffed, “Fine, go ahead, Check the recycling bin in the storeroom. There should be jars you can use as vases.”

“I’m on it.” She pecked his cheek and breezed by him. 

Once she’d found enough jars, Lorelai piled them into an empty box. She poked around the storeroom, checking for anything else that might make good decorations with a bit of DIY magic. A plastic bin tucked at the back of a bottom shelf caught her eye and she dragged it out. Sharpie labeled it “tablecloths.”

“Hey Luke,” she called.

“Yeah?” he shouted back.

“There’s a box of tablecloths here?” She snapped off the lid and sifted through the linens, slightly musty but still white and intact. 

“Yeah.”

“You’ve never used tablecloths.” She looked up as he came in. 

“I did for about two months when I first opened this place. Too much trouble, they were always getting stained and I didn’t like having to fuss with them. Gave’em up.”

“Would be nice, special occasion and all,” Lorelai said. 

“Might as well.” He shrugged and then offered a hand to help her off the floor. “Washer’s empty if you want to throw them in. I’ll run the jars through the dishwasher.”

“Good idea.” She grabbed an armful of tablecloths and headed for the machines at the rear of the storeroom. Luke took the box of jars. 

While the load ran, Lorelai drove home to retrieve the spools of autumn-themed ribbon. She made a mental note to use this as an counter-example the next time Rory or Luke teased her about being a packrat. It might have taken three years, but she had found a use for these leftovers from Stars Hollow Elementary’s 2002 production of “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown.” She threw a glue gun and sticks into the bag as well. 

On her way back, she detoured to the market and snagged several bouquets. Unloading with Rory’s help, she claimed a table and began prettying up the now-washed jars. Rory continued with pie-making alongside Ariana. 

As they worked, the woman chatted. Lorelai and Rory found themselves laughing often as Ariana recounted various incidents of human stupidity she’d witnessed as an urgent care nurse. 

A little before noon, the bell jangled. 

“Hey,” said Jess, “Didn’t know this was going to be party.”

“It’s always a party with the Gilmores,” rejoined Lorelai. She cocked her head.“Luke’s in the kitchen.”

“Figured.” He nodded to Rory and Ariana. “Hi.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Jess,” Rory said. “How’s your mom and TJ?”

“Same old crazy.” Hanging up his leather jacket, he said, “Heard you’re going back to Yale.”

Rory sat a little straighter. She smiled and declared, “I am.” 

“Cool.” Looking awkward, he thumbed towards the kitchen. “I’m just going to go help.”

“Start with peeling the potatoes,” directed Luke, poking his head out. 

“My favorite,” Jess replied dryly. 

Lorelai shook her head bemusedly as Jess walked behind the counter and into the kitchen. She glanced at Rory to see if she appeared disturbed by his presence but Rory had already returned to painting egg-white onto the criss-cross top of an apple pie. 

Pies in the oven, the three women decorated the tables. Each sported a bright burst of color, the makeshift vase wearing a collar of ribbon - sometimes thin strands of orange and yellow, others a thick band patterned with leaves or cornucopias. The tablecloths hid that none of the table matched and added a nice backdrop to the flowers. Wrapped silverware awaited at every place and Rory had remembered to put out the sugar containers. 

Smoothing a wrinkle, Lorelai looked about and felt a surge of satisfaction. “I think we did quite well for ourselves. Grant you, my mother would still have a fit but then again I wouldn’t want to do anything that wouldn’t generate that reaction so all in all, I think we did good.”

“I agree,” said Rory.  

“Me too,” said Ariana.

Checking the clock, Lorelai went to the kitchen door. “We’re much pretty  ready out here and it’s almost one.”

“We’re ready too,” Luke said, temperature probe in hand. “Did you put the tin by the register?”

“Rory did and she even made a new sign for it.” Lorelai gestured to the Maxwell house container with it’s brand-new ‘Pay What You Can’ sign. “She thought the old one was too faded.”

“Okay. When it gets to one, go ahead and open.”

Noticing the coffee pot nearly empty, Lorelai started a new one while they waited the last few minutes. 

“So when are your friends supposed to get here?” she asked Rory. 

“I told them five. I also told them to be on their best behavior.”

“Best behavior?” echoed Ariana with a raised brow. 

Rory explained, “Paris can be a little...intense and Colin and Finn sometimes like to have fun a little too much. But they’re my friends and I didn’t want them to not have a proper Thanksgiving.”

“That’s kind of you,” said Ariana, stirring a pitcher of iced tea. 

Rory blushed and busied herself giving the counter a final wipedown. 

At one, Lorelai flipped the sign to “Open” while Rory and Ariana raised the blinds. 

She swung the door wide, smiling and saying, “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” chorused the dozen people gathered there. 

“Now to the tables everyone and stuff yourselves!” she proclaimed, gesturing for them to come inside. 

The afternoon flew by for Lorelai. She flitted about, serving plates and chatting with the diners. Smiles and laughter filled the room. People dragged tables and chairs to new positions, making space for friends and neighbors. 

She and Rory sat occasionally with people they knew well, resting for ten or fifteen minutes with a cup of coffee. Luke insisted Ariana, Cesar, and Jess take breaks too but Lorelai never saw him pause for more than a minute. He kept cooking, consulting a schedule pinned to the wall just inside the kitchen. 

At five, the Yale contingent arrived. Depositing a boat of gravy at Kirk and Lulu’s table, Rory dashed to greet them. “Hi, Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” they replied. Finn sniffed and declared, “God, that smells good.”

“It is good, I’ve been sneaking tastes all afternoon,” Rory assured him. She pointed. “We’ve shoved tables together, go sit and I’ll go grab everyone else.”

“I’ll get Luke, you wrangle Jess?” offered Lorelai as Rory came up to her. 

“Yep, and I’m texting Lane to get over here.”

Lorelai strolled into the kitchen, waited until Luke replaced the lid on a pot, and snagged his arm. “Come on, buddy, time to eat ourselves into a food-coma.” 

Dragging him out, she asked Cesar, “You got this for a while?”

“I’ve got it. Go eat.” He made shooing motions at Luke. “Ariana and I already had our turn.”

Releasing Luke’s arm, Lorelai handed him a plate. “Fill’er up!”

With Luke managing four plates and Lorelai two, they exited the kitchen. 

When they reached the table, Rory was shoving Jess into a seat beside Paris. She immediately focused upon him with a blunt, “I read your book. It wasn’t a pile of crap.”

“Thanks,” said Jess, taking a plate from Luke and setting it in front of her. “Coming from you, that’s a high compliment.”

“Humpf. Still fixated on the Beats?”

“Yep.” Jess took a plate for himself. 

“Wonderful.”

“I’ll get the rest if you get drinks, three more right?” Luke told Lorelai. 

She nodded and asked the group, “What’d you want?”

As she was ferrying drinks, Lane hurried in, pink-cheeked and fairly bouncing. 

Rory waved her over. “Everyone, you know Lane, you met at my birthday party.”

“We remember you, the rock chick,” said Colin.

“I accept that appellation,” declared Lane and plopped into a spot. 

“You’re got a band right?” asked Doyle. 

“Hep Alien. We actually went on tour this summer.” 

“Really?”

“Made some money too, except the idiots I call bandmates went out and blew it on way overpriced recording equipment,” Lane explained. “Also, next time, I’m going to insist on a daily shower rule.”

Everyone made disgusted faces at that. 

Lorelai took one of the two remaining seats, keeping her coffee and sliding Luke’s water to the empty spot. A moment later, he returned with more plates and extra gravy. 

Conversation halted for a while as they dug into the food. Gradually, it resumed, mainly led by the twentysomethings. Books and music provided common ground, Jess and Paris sniping at each other occasionally and Lane holding court on the proper appreciation of this band and proper disdain for that one. Colin and Finn pestered Rory and Lorelai for stories about the town which they were happy to supply. Doyle interjected semi-related factoids and tangents on the demise of true journalism. Luke mostly listened, but he commented on Rory’s and Loreali’s tales. 

Scraping his plate to get the last bits of pumpkin pie, Colin declared, “This was top notch. Better than any Thanksgiving I’ve ever had.”

“It was really good,” said Doyle. 

“ I second that,” Paris admitted, stealing a forkful of Doyle’s apple pie. 

“Yeah, thanks much for inviting us,” added Finn.

Avoiding their eyes, Luke shrugged and stood. He mumbled, “You’re welcome,” and started collecting plates. 

“We’ll help,” offered Rory, starting to rise. 

Luke waved her back down. “Stay with your friends.”

“Luke and I’ve got this,” Lorelai said quickly. She stood and took a stack of plates from Jess. “You have fun.”

“In that case,” said Colin, pulling a deck of cards from his jacket pocket, “Who’s up for a game?”

Luke and Lorelai left them arguing the merits of spoons versus poker. 

While filling the dishwasher, Lorelai asked Luke, “You’re almost done, right? You always stop serving at six-thirty and it’s five-fifty now.”

Luke shook his head. “Deliveries are next. Do you still feel like helping?”

“Sure.” She followed him back out where Cesar was lining up trays of the various sides on the counter. A turkey gleamed at the far end of the line. “What do we do?”

Luke pointed at a stack of take-out containers and a bundle of ordering slips beside the cash register. “You take one of the slips and write the name on it on the top of a box, and go down the line to fill it. If they’ve got allergies -” Luke indicated boxes of plastic serving utensils under the counter, - “Use one of these for each dish then trash it.” 

“So that’s what those phone calls were about,” Lorelai remarked. Throughout the day, they’d gotten calls but she had never happened to be the one to answer. Picking up a container, she asked, “Who are these for?”

“Mostly for people who can’t get out,” said Luke. “Or who don’t like coming here.”

“Do you deliver them?” 

“No, Eric Sanders does the south side and Walter takes the north. They’ll be here at six-fifteen for the first batch. Walter does a second run to the nursing home.” 

The men showed on schedule, departing with bags of food labeled with names and addresses. They finished the second batch for six forty-five but six fifty arrived without Walter. Luke and Lorelai waited by the cash register, bags on the counter. 

“Who was the last on his route?” asked Lorelai. 

Luke checked his list. “Mrs. Gilson.”

“Ooooh, amateaur move. She just had that hip replacement, remember?”

“Right…”

“We’re talking twenty minutes before she lets him go.”

Luke looked at the bags. “I guess I could do it -”

“We could help,” called Finn, the young people’s table close enough to overhear. “I’ve got an SUV, there’s plenty of room, and if Rory could show us the way?”

Rory said, “Yes, of course I can.”

“Maybe take a drive around town afterwards?” suggested Colin. “I want to see more of it. It looks like something out of a postcard. Doyle, Paris, you in?”

“I’ve already seen all there is to see,” answered Paris with a dismissive wave. 

“I’ll go,” Doyle said. 

The three boys and Rory collected the bags and trooped out. Jess and Paris immediately began arguing about the merits of authors Lorelai had never heard of. 

As everybody else had departed, Lorelai started cleaning the dining area. After a few minutes, Luke chased Cesar and Ariana out of the kitchen, saying, “I’ve got it from here. I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Saturday,” confirmed Cesar. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” repeated Ariana. She and Lorelai hugged. “This was fun. Much better than the hospital.”

The couple bundled up and left with a final, “Happy Thanksgiving.” 

Luke returned to the kitchen. When he didn’t reappear, Lorelai stuck her head in. To her surprise, he was pulling yet another turkey from the oven. 

“What now?” 

“There’s one last thing I need to do. You don’t have to stay though,” he said. He brushed his fingers down her arm. “When Rory gets back, you two should go on home. You’ve done enough.”

“No. I’ll send Rory home, but I want to stay with you until you’ve done whatever you need to do.”

“You sure? I can do it on my own, and you have to be tired.”

“Not really, you were the maniac up at three o’clock.” She took one of his hands in hers, stroking it’s back. “I’m staying and that’s that.”

He leaned in and kissed her. “Alright. There’s a cooler in the storeroom. Could you get it?”

By the time Rory’s group returned, they had loaded Luke’s truck with food, stored in coolers and trays and insulated with thick blankets. Inside, Jess and Paris continued their argument while wiping down tables and running the dishwasher. 

“Mom? What’s going on?” asked Rory as she and the boys got out of the SUV. On the far side of the truck, Luke was tying the tarp down which covered the truck bed. 

“Not sure.” Digging her keys out of her coat pocket, Lorelai handed them to Rory. “When you’ve said goodbye to your friends, go on home. Luke and I will drive back together.”

“Okay.” Rory eyed the truck. “You’ll tell me later? Once you know?”

“Yep. Go inside, it’s cold.” The four obeyed. 

“Ready?” Lorelai asked Luke as he yanked on the final knot. 

“Ready.” 

The first trip was short, around the square and down a sidestreet to the rear parking lot of the church. When Luke knocked on the door, a woman opened it with a smile and a “Right on time.”

She led them to the church’s kitchen. Another set of trays and coolers awaited them as did two other women, all three of whom Lorelai vaguely recognized from the rare times she’d attended church with the Kims. Luke carrying the heaviest ones, they packed the new containers into the truck, sliding them in under the trap and adding yet more blankets. 

Luke and Lorelai climbed again into the cab. This time, Luke headed for the highway, and then east. 

“Where are we going?”

“Hartford.” 

Despite having lived in Hartford until the age of sixteen, Lorelai didn’t know the neighborhood they drove into. From the dilapidated state of the cramped rent houses and apartment buildings, interspersed with rundown shopping centers with too many payday loan stores, it was a neighborhood her parents would never have let her step foot in. 

Luke pulled onto the crumbling asphalt behind a three-story building. Before she could open the door, he stopped her. “I don’t want you to go off by yourself. Please. This isn’t a safe neighborhood.” 

“I get it; I won’t go wandering off.” 

They each grabbed a tray. Entering via a surprisingly unlocked door, Luke led the way. Lorelai heard the noise before she realized he’d guided them to a large hall with an attached cafeteria-like kitchen. People occupied nearly every seat in the long tables, eating from styrofoam plates with plastic knives and forks. Many of them wore ragged or threadbare clothes, and many had thin faces that were dirty or unshaved or both. 

Upon seeing them, a tall woman in a minister’s grab approached, frizzy red hair restrained by a ponytail.

Smiling, she said, “Luke, good to see you. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving. Iris, this is Lorelai Gilmore.” As his arms were full, Luke bobbed his head towards Lorelai. “Lorelai, this is Pastor Iris. She helps run the shelter.”

“So you’re the famous Lorelai,” said Iris. “Good to meet you at last.” Gesturing for them to follow, she ordered, “Come, set your things down and we’ll get people to help you unload the rest.” 

She led them into the kitchen. Commandeering a handful of volunteers, they unloaded the truck. On the last trip, Luke brought his toolkit with him. 

Iris was waiting for him with a list of minor fixes, a stepladder, and a box of light bulbs. After clarifying a couple of items, Luke declared, “I’ll start on the third floor, work my way down. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

“Thank you,” said Iris. 

“Lorelai, do you want to come me or stay here?” asked Luke. 

“I’ll stay here and help?” Lorelai addressed the ‘and help’ to Iris. 

“We can always use it.”

“Don’t let her cook anything,” Luke warned Iris. “She’s burned water.”

“Hey!”

Luke humphed at her retort. “You boiled until all the water was gone and damaged the pot.”

Lorelai stuck her tongue out at him. “Meanie.”

Ignoring her, Luke slung the ladder over his shoulder, picked up the box of bulbs, and walked off with the toolkit in his other hand. 

To Iris, Lorelai admitted, “He’s right about the cooking though. I do microwaves and toasters and things that come precooked.”

“How are you at making coffee?”

“Now that, I’m an expert at.” Iris showed her to the coffee machines. 

Lorelai had made several rounds when the pastor returned to her. Leaning against the counter, Iris remarked, “I just wanted you to know, I’ve heard three compliments about the coffee since you started making it.”

“Thanks. I practically live on the stuff,” replied Lorelai. “So I’ve had a lot of practice.” She waited a beat before giving in to her curiosity. “How long has Luke been doing this?”

“Oh...let’s see...I started ten years ago, and I think he’d been doing it for five or six years before that.”

“That long?”

“Mhm. You didn’t know?”

“He never said.”

Iris nodded understandingly. “That sounds like him. From what my predecessor said, he called one Thanksgiving, said he had extra food, asked if we wanted it. We said yes. Same thing happened on Christmas. Every year after that, he’d show up about this time with a truck full of food, usually better tasting than what we manage ourselves. Our volunteers try but they’re not professionals. Some of our regulars, the ones who come round every year, they know to come in later.”

“My daughter and I, we’ve been going to Luke’s for Thanksgiving for years. I never asked what he did afterwards.” Lorelai dumped grounds into a filter before sliding it into place. She flicked the on switch. 

“He’s talked about you, and your daughter. It’s one of the few things I’ve ever seen make him smile.” 

“Really?”

“Really. You’re special to him.”

“He’s very special to me too.” 

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Pastor?” called a young man from the serving line. Iris went to see what was the matter. 

By the time Luke reentered the kitchen, Lorelai had made fast friends with the elderly ladies who handled the desserts.  

“There’s a nice place over on New Britain, Jerry’s. They have a big selection of fabrics and if you watch for a sale, you can get some very good bargains,” one of them was saying. 

“Helpful too which you don’t get at those chain places,” added the other as she sliced pie. 

“I’ll give them a try. I promised to help with the costumes for the Christmas Eve processional, and we’re going to have to replace a couple of them completely,” Lorelai told them.  Smiling at Luke, she asked, “All done?”

“Almost. I’ll come back next week with the what I’ll need to fix the last couple of things. What about you?”

“Well, I just swapped out a fresh pot and put in a new one to brew. I’m good to go,” she declared. To the dessert ladies, she said, “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too, dear.” 

They retrieved their coats from the kitchen corner where they’d stashed them. On the way out, they said goodbye to the pastor. 

Five minutes into the drive home, Lorelai’s phone beeped. She checked the message. “Rory says everything is cleaned up. They all helped and Jess put the tin in the safe. Her friends have left so she’s heading home.”

“That was nice of them. Tell Rory thanks,” said Luke, sounding surprised. 

“Will do.” Lorelai’s fingers clicked as she sent the reply. With a glance at him, she asked, “You’re still going to want to check, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’ll be quick,” he promised. 

“Not a problem.” She fiddled with the radio until she found a station which had started playing Christmas music. Keeping it low, she hummed along with it. 

A single light source showed from the windows above the diner when they parked but the downstairs was dark. As they went inside, Lorelai asked, “When is Jess going back?”

“Sometime tomorrow.” Luke walked around the diner, then into the kitchen and storeroom, while Lorelai perched on a stool and waited. When he’d finished his checks, he stood beside her, one forearm on the counter and head twisted to look at the empty room. 

In a soft voice, he said, “The year after my dad died, the diner had only been open a couple of months. Liz was god knows where, my uncle had moved to Florida three years before...I...I didn’t know what else to do except stay open.”

“What about Buddy and Maisy?” asked Lorelai, equally quiet. 

Luke shook his head. “They were in Ohio. Beth had just had Amelia, and she was their first grandchild. They invited me, Beth was good with it, she and I were friends growing up but...I didn’t...they were excited and happy...and I would have just...I couldn’t...”

“You couldn’t pretend you were happy.” 

He nodded. “I couldn’t afford, that first year, to do it like I do now. I charged people what it cost me make it. I didn’t want to make a profit; I just wanted...I had to keep busy. A lot of people came, more than I expected. I ran out of food. When Christmas came, I did the same thing.”

“After Christmas, Reverend Skinner and Rabbi Barns came to see me. They asked if I would be willing to do this every year if they could pay for the supplies.” Luke turned to look at her. “I said yes. The next year, I had people asking if they could pay something so that’s when I put out the coffee tin. Most years, that covers half and then I split the rest with Reverend Skinner and Rabbi Barns.”

“What about the homeless shelter? When did that start?”

“The second year. I overestimated and had a whole turkey left plus some side dishes. I started calling places in the phonebook. They were the first place to say they’d take it. After that, I started buying extra on purpose.” His gaze lifted, looking past her shoulder at nothing. “Some of the people who go there, they’re veterans like my dad and my uncle. Others, you saw them, there’s women and children...I don’t have a lot of memories with both my parents, but I do remember Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. They were always special.”

Lorelai cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb against the rough stubble. His eyes drifted back to her.

“It’s important to me that I do this,” he told her. “I know you’ve talked about making our own traditions but I -”

“Shhh.” She placed an index finger on his lips. “Don’t you dare. I wouldn’t change a thing about today. It felt like we were combining traditions, it felt right. I felt like I was right where I belonged.”

“You belong,” he said firmly, taking her hand in his. “You definitely belong.”

“I love you.” The words fluttered free without conscious thought. Lorelai’s breath caught at how light they were. She’d said those words before to men, and to Luke, but this time, it was as easy and as obvious as saying the sun would rise tomorrow.

“I love you too.”

Slipping off her stool, Lorelai closed the gap between them. She kissed him gently, twining her arms around him. He returned it in kind, holding her tight. 

* * *

 

The next morning, Lorelai watched him sleep, sitting on the edge of the bed. He’d turned off the alarm which for once meant she was awake and up before him. 

Luke’s had always opened late the day after Thanksgiving - ten thirty or eleven o’clock - but Lorelai had never known why. She’d guessed that maybe he didn’t get many customers that day. 

She knew now the reason was that he needed the rest. Between the preparations in the week leading up to Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving itself, he’d been exhausted when they finally got home. She’d had to badger him to change into pyjamas and to get into bed, suspecting that in previous years he had merely collapsed in his clothes atop the covers. 

It made her ache, thinking of what he’d told her the night before. Although he hadn’t said it outright, she could read between the lines and it hurt to think of how lonely he must have been, the anniversary of his father’s death fast approaching with his sister gone and trying to find a way to get through the holiday without letting his grief taint it for others. 

She thought of the people she’d seen yesterday at the diner, of the deliveries to the homebound, of the crowded tables at the homeless shelter. 

Whether he’d ever admit to his motivations or not, Luke had done his best to ensure no one felt alone as he had. That anyone who wanted it had a home-cooked meal with all trimmings and with the opportunity to eat with others, or at the very least, would be wished a Happy Thanksgiving when the meal was delivered. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Clumsy from sleep, Luke pushed himself upright and reached for her. 

Lorelai blinked, having been unaware that he’d woken up. She shook her head and smiled, “Nothing. How are you feeling? You were out like a light.”

“That happens. Remind me to ask Rory to thank her friends again.” At her inquisitive “Hmm?” he added, “I’m usually up til midnight cleaning up.”

“Ouch, and speaking of ouch,” Lorelai tipped her head towards the bedside table where a mug and a medicine bottle sat. “I made you tea and there’s Advil.”

“Thanks.” Uncapping the bottle, Luke shook two tablets into his palm. He swallowed them with the tea. 

Climbing across the bed to nestle against him, Lorelai said, “We can cuddle until those kick in.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Luke shifted into a prone position once more and Lorelai rested her head on his chest, one hand laying on his stomach. Luke draped an arm around her.

As she listened to his heartbeat, she vowed silently that she would do everything in her power to keep him from ever being that lonely again. 


End file.
